2014-15 Issue

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VOLUME 10, 2014-2015



The staff of the Northwestern Undergraduate Research Journal would like to express its appreciation of all those who recognize and contribute to our endeavors. Without their support, we would be unable to produce the 2014-15 edition of the Journal. First, we would like to thank Morton Schapiro, President of Northwestern University, along with Provost Daniel I. Linzer and Ronald R. Braeutigam, the Associate Provost for Undergraduate Education, for their generous patronage. We are especially appreciative of our faculty adviser, Professor Allen Taflove of the Electrical Engineering and Computer Science Department, for his unwavering dedication to NURJ as a whole. His direction and guidance allow us to produce the best version of the Journal possible. Finally, we would like to thank the nine academic departments of Weinberg for partnering with the Journal to publish their “Best Senior Theses.” NURJ OFFICE TECHNOLOGICAL INSTITUTE ROOM M471 2145 SHERIDAN ROAD EVANSTON, IL 60208 Visit: http://www.thenurj.com Like: http://www.facebook.com/nuresearch Follow: @NU_research Contact: northwestern.urj@gmail.com PUBLISHER: CREATIVE GRAPHIC ARTS Front cover photo: “Felix Gonzalez-Torres” by Marc Wathleu, used under CC (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/bync/2.0), modified from original.

MISSION STATEMENT I. To demonstrate the strength of Northwestern University’s undergraduate research. II. To provide undergraduates from academic departments across the University means to publish the results of their research. III. To inspire and expand further research by undergraduates. 2


Northwestern Undergraduate Research Journal VOLUME 10 | 2014 –15 EDITOR IN CHIEF Monica Cheng FACULTY ADVISOR Allen Taflove MANAGING EDITORS Kacey Liu Sophie Weber DESIGN EDITOR

Josh Shi

FEATURE EDITORS Olive Jung Neil Thivalapill EDITORIAL BOARD Ananya Agrawal Vivian Chen Francesco Guerrieri Carolyne Guo Da Yeon Hwang Rachel Jensen Christina Lee Sunny Liu Shaleila Louis Young Sun Park Joey Salvo Jiaqi Shang Rachel Suen Josh Shi Neil Thivalapill Valerie Thomas Jordan Todes Amulya Yalamanchili FEATURES Ananya Agrawal Da Yeon Hwang Christina Lee Sunny Liu Young Sun Park Valerie Thomas Jiaqi Shang Rachel Suen Amulya Yalamanchili DESIGN Ananya Agrawal Max Gleber Christina Lee Young Sun Park Jiaqi Shang Jordan Todes Stephanie Yang


Apuleius’ The Golden Ass in Translation and Adaptation Brian Earl



Richard Silverman Monica Cheng and Sunny Liu


Cross-Cutting Cleavages: Euskadi Ta Askatasuna, Terra Lliure, and the Centrality of Social Networks Kaitlyn Chriswell


“Acts of Exhaustion”: Stéphane Mallarmé’s “Throw of the Dice” read by Rancière and Kittler Christopher Hoffman


Structure-Function Analysis of Sds3: Suppressor of defective silencing 3, a Key Component of the Histone Yujia Ding



Anthony Chen Neil Thivalapill



The Third Space: Between Enclosure and Exposure in 19th-Century England Kathryn Ikenberry


The Effects of Income on Transnationalism and Integration Among Hispanic Immigrants in Miami Sofia Falzoni


The Work and Legacy of Felix Gonzalez-Torres Claire Dillon


Disconnect Between Lived Experience and Policy Catherine Tyson


The Language of Marital Rape: An Analysis of Russian and American Literature and Law Lena Gryaznova


Bombs and Ballot Boxes: The Electoral Participation of Terrorist Groups Brian Yost


Steven Epstein Neil Thivalapill


Characterizing the Hippocampal Dentate Gyrus During Recent and Remote Trace Eyeblink Conditioning Lillian Chen



“Halka”: Transfigurations of Polish Romantic Nationalism Paulina Mateja



This volume contains condensed versions or excerpts of each senior thesis. Please visit the NURJ website to read the full version of each thesis: http://www.thenurj.com




VOLUME 10, 2014-2015




Dear readers,

For this 2014-15 issue, the NURJ has partnered with nine academic departments to showcase some of the most exciting research done by Northwestern undergraduates. We dub this the “Best Senior Theses” issue, in which you will find articles ranging from Classics to Biological Sciences to Slavic Languages & Literatures, and more.

The Northwestern Undergraduate Research Journal (NURJ) is an annual student-produced print and web-based publication funded by the President’s Office. We are very grateful for President Schapiro’s continuing generous support.

Within these pages, we invite you to explore the process of translating an ancient Roman novel, to follow the research being done on the brain’s hippocampus, to consider the portrayal of landscape in 19th century literature, and to examine an operatic narrative that captures the transfigurations of Polish romantic nationalism. Flip to the “About the Contributors” Q&A’s to learn the story behind each contributing author’s research and see where they are today. This issue also features the interviews of outstanding faculty engaged in research, such as Richard Silverman (John Evans Professor of Chemistry) and Steven Epstein (John C. Shaffer Professor in the Humanities). We hope these selections and these stories will give you a taste of the breadth, depth, and diversity of research being conducted in the Northwestern community. As of this year, the NURJ has rebuilt its website with the goal of bringing to you a fresh, dynamic site in which you can find ongoing regular updates on student research submissions and feature interviews of students and faculty currently conducting research. I encourage you to take a look at the new website to read the full theses of your favorite papers, and share with friends and colleagues. After reading this issue, perhaps you will find a topic that strikes your fancy or inspires you to pursue your own path of research. If you haven’t already started, we hope that you’ll realize now that it is your turn to conduct your own experiments, make your own discovery, and find your own “ah-ha!” moment. Enjoy the issue. Sincerely,

Monica Cheng Editor in Chief, Northwestern Undergraduate Research Journal Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences Northwestern University




One year ago, the 2013-14 edition of the NURJ was acclaimed as its most successful, featuring the best senior Honors Theses selected by 12 academic departments. More than 500 printed copies, freely available to students, were posted on a half-dozen newsstands about the Evanston campus. These copies were completely distributed within only 10 days. Many more printed copies than these could have been distributed, had they been available. This year, the 2014-15 issue of the NURJ builds upon this foundation by introducing several exciting new features and significantly increasing the print distribution to our student body. Step by step, we are proceeding toward the Journal becoming the publication of record for the top undergraduate research across all academic departments and programs at Northwestern. So now, enough from me — enjoy learning about the marvelous research investigations of Northwestern’s top students! Best regards,

Allen Taflove, Professor, NURJ Faculty Advisor Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science McCormick School of Engineering Northwestern University

CLASSICS Apuleius’ The Golden Ass in Translation and Adaptation Brian Earl CLASSICS





his paper explores the linguistic, historical, cultural, and philological problems of translating an ancient Roman novel, Apuleius’ The Golden Ass, for a contemporary American audience. The introductory essay surveys centuries of Western thought on the duties, goals, methods, problems, and dangers of translation, expanding on Dryden’s framework of categorizing a translation as metaphrase, paraphrase, or imitation. The introduction also practically demonstrates how using different translation philosophies leads to significantly different translations, and reflects on which choices are most effective, arguing against Nabokov’s assertion that metaphrase is the only acceptable means of translation. Following the introduction, the paper provides a new translation of the first third of The Golden Ass, targeting an audience of adults who do not have any formal training in the classics. The third section of the paper demonstrates how translations change when targeting different audiences; specifically, I translate brief sections of the novel for three groups: children, academics, and students just beginning to study the classics. The final section of the paper is an adaptation of the same material translated in the second section; instead of translating the material, I retell the story in a contemporary setting, exploring how the novel might have been written if Apuleius had lived in the modern American Midwest. The content here is an excerpt from the introduction of the paper, examining the duty and methods of translation. VOLUME 10, 2014-2015



CLASSICS Introduction: On Translating Books 1-4 of The Golden Ass I. The Duty of the Translator In my experience, Latin classes often encourage understanding a text in its original language. Translation is a crutch for students who lack fluency, treated almost as a dirty word—we’re not translating Latin, we’re reading it. Nobody cares if I sing of arms and a man, but arma virumque cano—that’s another story. But reading Latin in Latin only succeeds when everyone discussing the text possesses some level of fluency; when we wish to share the text with someone who can’t read the language, we must somehow convey the author’s work in words accessible to the new audience—and for many Latinists, this “somehow” presents a great challenge. We might paraphrase or summarize, offer a stiff and robotic word-by-word recounting, or flounder for any words at all. We might describe the essence of the text or dart around the original meaning, but we almost always fail to give our non-Latinist friends the same experience of reading the original. Often, the best we can do is simply to describe our experience, but hearing that Dido’s lament is moving and powerful cannot compare to the personal experience of being moved by her powerful words. Even so, sharing an alien text is one of the great joys of learning a foreign language. Just as the astronomy student would share the discovery of a new planet with her friends without using a name like Kepler-20f, or the biologist would explain the fascinating mechanisms by which the body functions in everyday language, so the classicist is eager to communicate the works of Greece and Rome via translation, leaving behind the original Greek and Latin. Translation, in the words of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, “endow[s] a fresh nation, as far as possible, with one more possession of beauty” (65). As Friedrich Schleiermacher states, translation “bring[s] two people together who are . . . totally separated from each other . . . [into the] immediate relationship . . . of author and reader” (39). Translation is about sharing art and beauty—connecting people who are otherwise separated by time and distance. With this in mind, the translator faces certain duties. How can he best create, present, and preserve this art? Vladimir 6

Nabokov says the translator’s chief duty is to provide as literal a translation as possible, “to reproduce with absolute exactitude the whole text, and nothing but the text” (134). Anything less than this sends Nabokov into “spasms of helpless fury:” A schoolboy’s boner is less of a mockery in regard to the ancient masterpiece than its commercial interpretation or poetization. The term “free translation” smacks of knavery and tyranny. It is when the translator sets out to render the “spirit”—not the textual sense—that he begins to traduce his author. The clumsiest literal translation is a thousand times more useful than the prettiest paraphrase. (127) I—and more importantly, scholars and translators who are much more knowledgeable and skilled than me— disagree. Octavio Paz, for instance, argues that “literal translation . . . is not translation” (154). But why? Why is Nabokov incorrect? Wouldn’t a translator want to aim for “absolute exactitude”? No: among other reasons, literal translations will inevitably fail to capture the mood and tone of an author in a way that is accessible to the new audience. Mood and tone—the experience of reading something—define a text; rendering this “spirit” of a text is a necessity, not a denigration. Readers will remember few, if any, specific words and phrases after completing a novel, but they


will recall how they felt, whether they laughed or cried or recoiled in disgust. John Dryden, who prepared a translation of Ovid’s Epistles in 1680, proposes that “the sense of an author, generally speaking, is to be sacred and inviolable,” and this must be preserved in translation above all else (21). It is not the individual words that matter so much as the feelings they convey. While a literal translation is often sufficient for these purposes, the literal translation is not an end in itself, and when it fails the translator must know how to appropriately depart from the original text. Dryden expands on these thoughts: “Words are not like landmarks, so sacred as never to be removed; customs are changed, and even statutes are silently repealed, when the reason ceases for which they were enacted. As for the other part of the argument, that [the author’s] thoughts will lose their original beauty by the innovation of words; in the first place, not only their beauty, but their being is lost, where they are no longer understood . . . I grant that something must be lost . . . in all translations; but the sense will remain, which would otherwise be lost, or at least maimed, when it is scarce intelligible. “(28)

“No translation can exactly recreate the mood and meaning of a literary work, but it can approximate it. How? It is not just a language we must translate when working with Latin—it is an entire culture. Separated by an ocean and two thousand years, how can we recreate a text so a modern American audience will appreciate it? The translator’s most important skill is his ability to make careful, informed decisions.”

CLASSICS The translator must modernize the text at the expense of individual words; failure to do so will result in the greater losses of beauty, intelligibility, and experiencing the text in the way it was meant to be experienced. Walter Benjamin agrees with Dryden’s sentiments, arguing that a translation should produce an “echo of the original” (77). Translation is not copying or recreation; it is creation in a new form. An echo is not speech, but something entirely different, sound waves reflected off a distant surface—yet an echo can have the same effect on the ears it touches. Nearly as important as preserving the author’s sense is preserving the original images, whether in plain narrative or in figurative language. The translator should not add to or embellish the author’s imagery any more than he should subdue or replace it. Why speak of the setting sun when the author describes the sky growing darker and darker? Why say someone walked like a wounded deer when the original says someone tottered unsteadily? In Reading Rilke, William Gass compares fifteen different translations of

German schrecklich. Gass goes to great lengths to preserve as much of the original as he can—sense, mood, tone, image; he deliberates about each and every word in his translation. In this translation of The Golden Ass I prescribe to all these duties—conveying the text faithfully, preserving the sense and images of the original, presenting the author so that the modern audience appreciates him as much as his ancient audience did. My chief aim, however, is to create an artistic product. “The hallmark of bad translations,” writes Benjamin, is the tendency to impart only information without striving for any new artistic ends (71). Paz, likewise, describes translation as “a literary operation” (157). And so, I want my translation to stand on its own, to provide pleasure to the reader, to be my own small contribution to what the powers-that-be call “art.” II. The Methods of Translation No translation can exactly recreate the mood and meaning of a literary work, but it can approximate it. How? It is not

“But you might be wondering who I am. Let me introduce myself! My ancestors are from faraway places, and my guess is you haven’t heard of a lot of them. Do you know where Athens and Sparta are? How about Hymettus, Epherea, and Taenaros? They’re all the way across the Atlantic Ocean in a country called Greece—places you might only read about in books.” —Translation of The Golden Ass, intended for children

Rilke’s writing. He scathingly criticizes the translators (including himself) when they fail to preserve Rilke’s images (67). At the same time, he interrogates the English translations for connotations that might subvert the imagery; the word “terrifying,” for instance, has different colors than the VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

just a language we must translate when working with Latin—it is an entire culture. Separated by an ocean and two thousand years, how can we recreate a text so a modern American audience will appreciate it? The translator’s most important skill is his ability to make careful, informed

decisions. Lydia Davis succinctly quips, “No choice is simple, even one that seems simple” (62). The translator must be able to recognize the sort of decisions he makes— even the instinctive ones—and articulate and justify each and every choice. Dryden describes the various strategies for approaching a translation project. “All translation,” he writes, “may be reduced to . . . three heads.” These heads are metaphrase, or turning an author word by word, and line by line, from one language into another . . . paraphrase, or translation with latitude, where the author is kept in view by the translator, so as never to be lost, but his words are not so strictly followed as his sense; and that too is admitted to be amplified, but not altered . . . [and] imitation, where the translator (if now he has not lost that name) assumes the liberty, not only to vary from the words and sense, but to forsake them both as he sees occasion . . . taking only some general hints from the original. (17) These are the translator’s tools: metaphrase, paraphrase, and imitation. They are three distinct vehicles that transport the reader from one place to another—like automobiles, ferries, and trains. Transferring from one to another in a single trip can be inconvenient, frustrating, or downright impossible, and so it is better to pick a mode and stick with it. Schleiermacher, who favors metaphrase, writes that imitation should never be combined with the other methods, for doing so turns the entire translation into “mere imitation, or to a still more repulsively conspicuous and confusing mixture of translation and imitation that throws the reader mercilessly back and forth like a ball” (51). However, sometimes a journey necessitates merging methods. Just as someone driving from Milwaukee to Detroit will either need to take a long and circuitous route through Illinois—with potentially brutal, unforgiving traffic in Chicago—or else take an expensive but relaxing ferry across Lake Michigan, some passages will prevent translators with similar dilemmas. A direct translation (metaphrase) might be clunky, confusing, or arduous to read, when a paraphrase presents a smoother, more elegant route, but at the cost of the original language. In



CLASSICS such instances, the translator might choose to mix methods rather than religiously sticking with one, just as the driver might decide the easiest journey involves paying the extra fare for the ferry. Indeed, in many cases metaphrase and paraphrase complement each other quite well. Like automobiles, ferries, and trains, metaphrase, paraphrase, and imitation each have advantages and disadvantages; depending on the goal of a particular translation, one method may prove more effective than the others. Metaphrase provides the most “literal” translation of a text—every word in the original will have something that corresponds to it in the translation, and there will be no additions. This allows the reader to understand what the original text “says” more than any other method, and the reader will be able to draw their own conclusions about the text free from interpretive actions from the translator. So why not exclusively use metaphrase? One problem lies in that what is idiomatic in a foreign language might not make sense in the new tongue. Some idioms transfer perfectly—the Latin verb replicare (to turn/fold back/over) can be used with thoughts; in English, we can also say “I turned these thoughts over.” Other idioms, however, do not translate well—Latin speakers would say there was a manus (hand) of robbers, but in English, we would say a “group” or a “band.” In some instances of idiomatic trouble, the translator can integrate any method of translation fairly seamlessly into his work. A metaphrase will reproduce the original text faithfully, though the phrase might strike the readers’ ear as odd or nonsensical (e.g., the Danish use the idiom “to take off the clogs”); a paraphrase would describe or explain the idiom (“to die”); and an imitation would choose an idiom from the target language to replace the original (“to kick the bucket”). The problems of metaphrase extend beyond figures of speech—a translation based solely on metaphrase will struggle to capture the mood and tone of the original. Roman authors and American authors have different styles of writing. As an inflected language, Latin has much more flexibility regarding where words can fall in sentences. This allows authors to place subjects, 8

objects, and verbs in various positions to add or subtract emphasis. Literary Latin—including that of Apuleius—is marked by long, twisting sentences, using copious nested relative clauses; subjects, verbs, and objects are often separated by a

style; or retain the old sentence length at the risk of leaving the reader lost and confused, needing to reread passages over and over again to track the flow of meaning. The Romans were accustomed to their characteristically long sentences, and

“Last night, I was eating dinner competitively with some co-banqueters, eager to gobble up a sort-of-largish chunk of cheesy porridge, and when the soft and sticky food stuck in my jaws and throat , I couldn’t breathe—I nearly died. But still, when I was recently in Athens, before the Poecilen colonnade , I saw with my own two eyes a traveling performer swallow a sharpened cavalryman’s broadsword by its dangerous tip!” —Translation of The Golden Ass, intended for scholars

surprising amount of space. On the other hand, American English favors short, clear, concise sentences, which Davis points out in her essay on translating Proust, whose verbosity rivals that of Apuleius (58). As Edward Seidensticker states, “An English sentence hastens to the main point and for the most part lets the qualifications [adjectives, relative clauses, etc.] follow after” (143). Latin does not do this, sometimes beginning with descriptions before revealing the subject, and often delaying the verb until the very end of a clause or sentence. While a modern writer can mimic some of Latin’s emphatic choices, such word order will be unusual in English, making the sentence stand out compared to its counterpart in the original. The translator will inevitably modernize and normalize the word order of sentences; retaining the original word order would be unsustainable for more than a sentence or two, reading like utter gibberish. When faced with cumbersomely long sentences, the metaphraser has two options: break up the sentences into smaller chunks to adapt to a more modern


so they would not have had much trouble following them, keeping track of subjects, verbs, and other crucial information. So, if the metaphraser chooses to retain original sentence divisions, the reader will have a much more difficult time following the text than the original audience (though to be fair, even the Romans would have had to stop, think about, and reread the most convoluted Latin sentences). Benjamin warns, “A literal rendering of the syntax… is a direct threat to comprehensibility” (79). However, if the metaphraser chooses to break up the long sentences into more digestible chunks, he sacrifices fidelity to the original. In either case, the metaphraser will be able to translate what the text means, but not the exact experience of reading it. Paraphrase, then, attempts to address these shortcomings of metaphrase. The translator concedes the inevitable sacrifices to the original, and errs on the side of making the text accessible to the new audience. What does a modern American care if the Romans used long sentences? Confusingly long sentences could ruin the comic timing in a text like The Golden Ass. Paraphrase

CLASSICS strives to achieve the cadence, flow, and idiom of the target language, capturing the ideas and tone of the original, but often at the cost of not translating particular words. Garry Wills, introducing Christopher Logue’s translation of the Iliad, explains that poets paraphrase or “‘take liberties’ . . . not to get away from” the original, but to move toward it (xi). And translators will find themselves using paraphrase in nearly any translation; as Dryden points out, “every language is so full of its own

different sentences, different paragraphs. Whole scenes may change. Until one examines an imitation and an original broadly on a thematic level, the only similarity between the texts might be the title—if that. Dryden nicely sums up the goal of the imitator: “to write like one who has written before him, on the same subject; that is, not to translate his words, or to be confined to his sense, but only to set him as a pattern, and to write, as he supposes that author would have done, had he lived

“I am Aristomenes, from Aegium. Listen to how I make a profit for myself: I’m always running all around through Thessaly, Aetolia, and Boeotia with honey and cheese and the like to trade with the inns. So, when I learned that a fresh cheese of a renowned flavor was flying off the shelves in Hypata —a town more important than all of Thessaly—due to an exceedingly low price, I rushed there to corner the market.” —Translation of The Golden Ass, intended for new classics students

properties, that what is beautiful in one, is often barbarous, nay sometimes nonsense, in another . . . It is impossible to render all those little ornaments of speech in any two languages” (21, 30). Therefore, Dryden concludes, “it would be unreasonable to limit a translator to the narrow compass of his author’s words: ‘tis enough if he choose out some expression which does not vitiate the sense” (21). Paraphrase fills the gaps between languages that metaphrase creates. The two modes can be used in conjunction, one supplementing the other to create a smooth, accessible, and (mostly) faithful translation. Imitation wanders far from the original text, and might preserve only themes, mood, tone, and content. There will not be much similarity on the level of language— the imitator will use different diction, VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

in our age, and in our country” (19). Thus, adaptation—transporting a text to a new environment or medium, retelling the story in a new setting or form—falls under imitation’s umbrella. Beyond these three main tools, Schleiermacher introduces two different philosophies a translator can employ. The translator can try to make the translation of the foreign language sound as much like the target tongue as possible, or he can push the limits of his native language, mimicking the original, trying to force his own language into the foreign mold (42). The decision between these two philosophies will affect many subsequent choices the translator makes. For example, a translator trying to completely adapt to the target language will often sacrifice a writer’s particular style if such a style feels

unnatural in the new language. In the case of this translation, I have attempted to make English sound as Apuleius-esque as I can. Apuleius has a distinct loquacity and even makes up his own words—as a result of imitating this style, my translation might feel oddly verbose at times, a tad foreign to the ear, but “transmitting a feeling of foreignness,” as Schleiermacher puts it, is only an advantage (46). Infusing the work with a sort of exoticism will remind the reader they are reading a foreign text, aiding their imaginations in picturing a milieu in another country, characters speaking another language, a culture with customs different from their own. Benjamin also supports this mode, sharing a quote from Rudolf Panwitz: “The basic error of the translator is that he preserves the state in which his own language happens to be instead of allowing his language to be powerfully affected by the foreign tongue” (81). Incidentally, metaphrase is the tool that most naturally allows the translator to push his words toward the original language. Translating word-by-word rather than idea-by-idea not only ensures everything written remains accounted for, but ensures that it is accounted for in a way similar to that in which it was originally presented. Schleiermacher writes, “The more closely the translation follows the phrases of the original, the more foreign it will strike the reader” (46). And so, metaphrase allows the translator to be most faithful to the original both in literal meaning and in preserving the way in which things are said—a way that might seem unnatural to the new audience. But that is not to say using metaphrase to push the boundaries of language to something foreign is the “best” way to translate; the purpose and audience will guide the translator just as much as—if not more than—a general philosophy on translation. Metaphrase, paraphrase, and imitation each belong in every translator’s arsenal. The translator must be conscious of his choices and aware of the effect each tool has, permitting him to make appropriate decisions to achieve his particular goal. I intend my translation to be what I call an “accessible metaphrase.” I strive to translate nearly every word of the original



CLASSICS Latin, but to do so in such a way that the result does not sound like a translation. I do not confine myself to Apuleius’ sentence divisions or word order. I frequently break up his sentences and paragraphs into more digestible chunks (and on a few occasions, merge his sentences). When the main subject or verb is delayed for a long period of time, I move this crucial information to the beginning of the sentence; while in some cases it is delayed to provide a surprise or a punch line, in English such a delay would render the sentence incomprehensible. I make a few additions, inserting background information necessary for understanding some of Apuleius’ more obscure comparisons and allusions. Occasionally Apuleius will repeat an idea with synonyms for emphasis, but English cannot always replicate such repetition in a smooth and elegant manner. In cases like these I omit a few Latin words from my translation. When metaphrase fails, I paraphrase, but I try to do so sparingly. A final tool of translation is to collaborate with other people and other books. Translators would be foolish not to use the many resources available to them. For example, in the introduction to his translation of the Iliad, Christopher Logue recalls that when he began his decades-long project, he was not confident in his Ancient Greek; he relied upon older translations as guides (vii). Similarly, I regularly consulted the translations of Sarah Ruden and P. G.

Walsh when working on this project, and I also read Robert Graves’s. Donald Frame supports this practice; he argues that translation is “a cumulative undertaking, and therefore borrowing—or stealing— whenever you see that your own best solution to a problem is clearly inferior to someone else’s” is perfectly acceptable (82). The exception, however, is the “rare cases” where a translator improves on the original (83). Using previous translations can help decipher difficult passages in the original and be a source of inspiration in deciding how to render a certain phrase. Meanwhile, Davis takes a slightly different approach; she prefers to separate her work from her predecessors, at least when writing her first draft. She refuses to “look at other translations,” to read the whole work in the original language, or to research the author’s life (54). Essentially, she translates blind, but she will then use all these resources when she revises her translation on second and subsequent drafts. This allows her to create something that is original without squandering the work done before her; she writes, “Often another version made me confirm that mine felt right to me, or it induced me to make it better. Sometimes I found a word I hadn’t thought of using: in Moncrieff, say, ‘housetop’ for ‘roof ’” (56). Her method ensures the “freshest” take on a work, as free as possible from outside influences. Finally, translators can collaborate by

“Imitation wanders far from the original text, and might preserve only themes, mood, tone, and content. There will not be much similarity on the level of language—the imitator will use different diction, different sentences, different paragraphs. Whole scenes may change. Until one examines an imitation and an original broadly on a thematic level, the only similarity between the texts might be the title—if that.”



discussing their translation project with other people. William Weaver makes it a point to consult the original author or people who knew him as part of his translation process (122-3). Even with ancient texts, when such consultations are impossible without a time machine, discussing the translation with others— from those who know the foreign language well to skilled writers in the target tongue— can be invaluable. Bibliography

Benjamin, Walter. “The Task of the Translator.” Trans. Harry Zohn. 1968. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. 71-82. Print. Davis, Lydia. “Loaf or Hot Water Bottle: Closely Translating Proust.” Yale Review 92.2 (2004): 51-70. Print. Dryden, John. “On Translation.” 1961. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. 17-31. Print. Frame, Donald. “Pleasures and Problems of Translation.” The Craft of Translation. Ed. John Biguenet and Rainer Schulte. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1989. 79-92. Print. Gass, William H. Reading Rilke: Reflections on the Problems of Translation. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1999. Print. Logue, Christopher. Author’s Note. War Music: An Account of Books 1-4 and 16-19 of Homer’s Iliad. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997. vii-x. Print. Nabokov, Vladimir. “Problems of Translation: Onegin in English.” 1955. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. 127-43. Print. Paz, Octavio. “Translation: Literature and Letters.” Trans. Irene Del Corral. 1971. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. 152-62. Print. Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. “Preface to The Early Italian Poets.” 1861. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. 64-67. Print. Schleiermacher, Friedrich. “From ‘On the Different Methods of Translating.’” Trans. Waltraud Bartscht. 1938. Theories of Translation: An Anthology of Essays from Dryden to Derrida. Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1992. 36-54. Print. Seidensticker, Edward. “On Trying to Translate Japanese.” The Craft of Translation. Ed. John Biguenet and Rainer Schulte. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1989. 142-53. Print. Weaver, William. “The Process of Translation.” The Craft of Translation. Ed. John Biguenet and Rainer Schulte. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1989. 117-24. Print. Wills, Garry. Introduction. War Music: An Account of Books 1-4 and 16-19 of Homer’s Iliad. By Christopher Logue. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997. vii-x. Print.



Richard B. Silverman

John Evans Professor of Chemistry and inventor of Lyrica WRITTEN BY MONICA CHENG INTERVIEW BY SUNNY LIU Whether it be through taking a course in organic chemistry, working in labs, passing by Silverman Hall, or hearing about his invention of pregabalin—or better known as Lyrica—, most people have most likely encountered Richard B. Silverman’s name in some form or another during their time at Northwestern University. Silverman is the John Evans Professor of Chemistry and has made significant contributions to the world of chemistry through cutting-edge research. His commitment to the sciences has won him numerous awards such as the Northwestern University Trustee Medal for Faculty Innovation and Entrepreneurship (2014) and Excellence in Medicinal Chemistry Prize of the Israel Chemical Society (2014). In the same year 2014, he became a fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and a fellow of the National Academy of Inventors. Humble Beginnings Whereas most eight-year old boys might be running around outside or in the playground, Silverman at that age was playing a game of a different sort—one that sparked his first flame of interest in chemistry. After receiving a chemistry set as a gift, he and his older brother decided to conduct their first home experiment. “It was a very simple invisible flame experiment that shows how alcohol burns cleanly,” Silverman said. “We used our bedroom as our laboratory without realizing that the curtain was flammable.”

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Sure enough, the flame Silverman and his brother created was invisible—that is, until the curtain caught on fire. His mother heard the noise, promptly put out the fire, and forbade any future household chemistry experiments. “That was our first experiment,” Silverman said. “It was a lot of fun, but it was five years later that I allowed to have another chemistry set. By that time, I was pretty much hooked on chemistry, and when I took organic chemistry as a college sophomore, I realized that was the area of chemistry that I was really passionate about.” Later, Silverman attended graduate

school with the intention of going into the pharmaceutical industry, only to discover his interest in teaching during his time as a TA. “My career plans changed during my third year of graduate school. I decided that I wanted to become an academic scientist,” Silverman said. “My interest has always been in medicinal chemistry, so I did a postdoctoral fellowship after my Ph.D. with an enzymologist to learn about how enzymes function and how to inhibit them.” And so, enzyme inhibition and looking at molecular mechanisms and organic synthesis



FEATURE for practical medicine applications became the focus of Silverman’s research. Specifically, Silverman said he is interested in finding small molecules that will have an effect on neurological and neurodegenerative diseases such as epilepsy, Parkinson’s disease, ALS, and Huntington’s disease. “We study enzymes that are important to those diseases and try to design molecules that will prevent those enzymes from functioning and thereby have an effect on the disease,” Silverman said. The Story of Lyrica Perhaps the most well-known of Silverman’s research is his discovery of Lyrica, a drug whose original design was to treat epilepsy. The healthy body has a delicate balance of inhibitory neurotransmitter (GABA) and excitatory neurotransmitter (glutamate); excess excitatory neurotransmission or insufficient inhibitory neurotransmission could cause overexcitation of neurons, leading to convulsions. The goal, Silverman said, is to get those neurotransmitters back into balance. “Our approach was to inhibit the enzyme that degrades the inhibitory neurotransmitter,” he said. “Blocking that enzyme prevents the degradation of the inhibitory neurotransmitter, increasing its concentration, so the convulsions should stop.” “We also recognized, however, that you cannot interfere with the enzyme that is producing GABA, namely, glutamatic acid decarboxylase, because then you would be lowering the GABA concentration. So we set out to design a molecule that would selectively inhibit the enzyme that degrades GABA but not inhibit the enzyme that is producing GABA,” Silverman said. “We also knew that the molecule had to get into the brain, which required lipophilic properties, so we incorporated that property into our drug design.”



The surprise, though, was that the compounds that inhibited the GABA-degrading enzyme in fact activated the GABA-producing enzyme (glutamic acid decarboxylase). Thus, more GABA is produced. “That was the ‘eureka’ moment,” Silverman said. “We had found a new mechanism for increasing GABA concentrations, which could be a new class of drugs for treating epilepsy.” The story of Lyrica, hence, is one that demonstrates the value of being open-minded as a researcher. “When you make some unusual observations, you shouldn’t scrap it just because it is not what you wanted,” Silverman said. “Instead, you should ask, ‘What can I do with this new piece of information?’” Ultimately, Lyrica became known not just for providing relief from epileptic symptoms. “In clinical trials,” Silverman said, “people with neuropathic pain—the pain you get fibromyalgia, diabetes, or spinal cord injury— reported back to physicians their pain went away. That was not what pregabalin (Lyrica) was originally designed for, nor was that the design of its predecessor, Neurontin.” Through physicians and word of mouth, it became known that Lyrica could be effective for nerve pain. After more clinical trials, Lyrica was approved for providing relief for various nerve pain symptoms associated with diseases such as fibromyalgia, diabetic neuropathy, and posttherapeutic neuralgia. Silverman’s primary interest, though, remains in neurodegenerative and neurological diseases. Currently, his most advanced project is with the compound CPP-115. “We are working with a small company, Catalyst Pharmaceutical Partners, which has put it into a Phase I clinical trial,” Silverman said. “And they are now designing a Phase II trial.” “The compound is an inhibitor of a particular enzyme called GABA aminotransferase. It turns out that there is another related enzyme

that a group in Israel has been studying for hepatocellular carcinoma, and they asked for samples of some of the compounds we published as inhibitors of GABA aminotransferase to determine if they have an effect on liver cancer. And they do.” This molecule, CPP-115, is able to inhibit both GABA aminotransferase for epilepsy and ornithine aminotransferase for liver cancer. The plan now, according to Silverman, is to put CPP115 into a clinical trial for liver cancer. Looking Forward According to Silverman, research is an essential experience for all undergraduates regardless of academic field. His advice to undergraduates is to keep an open mind when searching for an area of research interest. “Research forces you to think creatively, to expand beyond what you read in a textbook, and come up with solutions that solve problems,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what kind of research you pursue, as long as it interests you.” There are several qualities that a successful researcher possesses. “First, a researcher cannot be upset by failure,” Silverman said. “Most of your experiments will not work, but the key is to take failure as a challenge instead of defeat—a starting a point to finding a solution. It takes creativity to view a failed experiment as an opportunity to redesign the experiment using a different approach or take it into a different area.” It takes a flexibility of the mind and the ability to think outside the box to problemsolve in the research world and discover an impactful solution. “By asking yourself why the experiment did not work, you can make a change and see what happens,” Silverman said. “It may end in worse or better results, but either way, you learn something from the experience. The best researchers are the ones who are willing to take a chance on trying something different.”

“When you make some unusual observations, you shouldn’t scrap it just because it is not what you wanted. Instead, you should ask, ‘What can I do with this new piece of information?’”




VOICE FROM THE LAB Anthony Pensa Anthony Pensa (’15) is a senior majoring in ISP and biological sciences and minoring in chemistry. He has worked at Professor Silverman’s lab for 2.5 years, since September 2012. His first encounter with Professor Silverman was during the spring of freshman year, through taking organic chemistry. “I really liked the material Professor Silverman presented in his class and when I looked up his research, I found that it was relevant to my interests. I enjoyed chemistry and biology, and so I wanted to find something relevant to both of those and with a medical focus. What drew me to Professor Silverman’s research was that I could use my knowledge of chemistry and biology put it together into relevant application.” Like Silverman, Pensa’s interest stemmed partly from personal experience with neurogenerative disease, in this case, Parkinson’s. Pensa has worked on two projects during his time at Silverman’s lab. “During my first year and a half,” he said. “I was designing and making inhibitors of a particular enzyme with overall purpose of finding treatment for Huntington’s. I collaborated with a lab based at Harvard, which did the biological testing. The purpose is to target a particular protein to alleviate the toxicity of Huntington’s protein.” His second project involves targeting a different specific enzyme. “Animal models have shown that inhibiting this enzyme can produce results that may be useful in the treatment of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and neuropathic pain,” Pensa said. “I do the design, synthesis, and biological testing—including enzyme purification and kinetic studies with VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

my inhibitors and the natural substrate of the enzyme we are targeting. We collaborate with UC Irvine that does x-ray crystallography in order to elucidate how the inhibitor gives rise to potency that we’re seeing.” “The lab environment is great. Each undergraduate is paired with a postdoctoral fellow, and if I have any questions or want to talk through an idea, there is always someone who is willing to give their advice and support. Right now, I work closely with my post doc, but I design and make compounds based on my own thinking.” There are two important qualities to a good researcher, according to Pensa. “You have to be excited about your work,” he said, “because there are going to be times when you will hit walls and feel frustrated. It’s also important to be determined. If you feel frustrated, it’s important to be open to feedback and seek advice or the opinion of others.” “Professor Silverman is really great because he’s always there to give advice or feedback whenever we’re stuck,” Pensa said. “He gives us

the freedom to explore and create something of our own—to address an issue that is important. Obviously, he’s made significant scientific progress by discovering Lyrica, but he has also helped a lot of people by mentoring students such as undergraduates, graduate students, and postdoctoral fellows—so that they may use the tools they gained from this lab experience and apply it in their futures.” Pensa shares similar views with Silverman on the challenges of research. “It can be frustrating when even after you learn all these lab techniques and all the information from your classes and readings, somehow your experiments don’t work, or you get results that you’re not sure how to interpret. You may begin to doubt whether you’re thinking or doing things the right way.” In such situations, Pensa stresses the importance of keeping an open mind and the ability to outside the box. “I find that when you come across a roadblock, it’s helpful to take a step back and see how to approach differently. The postdoctoral fellows are great resources because they’ve often encountered similar problems and can offer a different perspective. I also try to read as much literature as possible to think of a different approach.” The learning curve is another challenge, according to Pensa. “When I first started at the lab, it was difficult because I’d never done research before,” he said. “I had classroom knowledge, but to take what you learn from the classroom and take it to the next level is hard transition. At first I relied heavily on postdoctoral fellows to get acclimated to performing experiments and learn how to apply the scientific method in this particular scientific setting.” Pensa is currently writing an honors thesis for ISP and will begin his first year at the Feinberg School of Medicine this fall of 2015. “Research will continue be a part of what I want to do in whatever field I end up in,” he said. “It challenges you to think critically and do your own outside exploration. It’s the opportunity to take the information you learn in a classroom and see how it applies to real life problems. It allows you to pursue what you’re interested in—to take an idea and make it into a reality.”

“Professor Silverman gives us the freedom to explore and create something of our own—to address an issue that is important.” NORTHWESTERN UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH JOURNAL


POLITICAL SCIENCE Cross-Cutting Cleavages Euskadi Ta Askatasuna, Terra Lliure, and the Centrality of Social Networks Kaitlyn Chriswell POLITICAL SCIENCE






hy do some armed groups succeed where others do not? Both the Basque and Catalan regions of Spain have been home to nationalist, separatist armed groups, yet Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (ETA) has persisted for much longer in the Basque region than Terra Lliure did in Catalonia. This paper seeks to explain how social networks affect armed group viability— whether a group “succeeds” and continues to exist or “fails” and dies out. It will specifically focus on how pre-existing social networks that are both tight-knit and heterogeneous in nature benefit armed groups and contribute to the longevity of an armed group. Two hypotheses are proposed in order to link pre-existing social networks to an armed group’s success or failure. Primary source survey and interview evidence I collected from the Basque and Catalan regions of Spain serves as a basis for examining these hypotheses. I argue that differences observed in the social networks of the two regions help explain the failure of Terra Lliure, despite the success of ETA in otherwise very similar environments.


The study of conflict lends itself to positive cases since collecting data on the existence of rebel groups and their perpetration of violence is easier than collecting data on rebel groups failing to attain that capability. However, this approach is problematic because it ignores the fact that most rebel groups never constitute a successful threat to the state but instead disband (Lewis 2013). By studying such a small subset of cases, namely those groups that are successful, the question of rebel group viability is lost. What makes a rebel group successful? What differentiates groups that are successful from groups that fail? These questions should be central to the study of conflict because understanding the factors that lead to the sustainability of rebel groups helps us better understand the phenomenon of continued violence and conflict. In this paper I propose two hypotheses explaining how social networks affect the success or failure of rebel groups. First, I link the viability of rebel groups to the social network structure of the region in which they operate, arguing that rebel groups rely on information from civilians to perpetrate effective, selective violence. Effective violence constitutes an effective threat to the state, while ineffective violence leads a group to dissolve. A region with denser, more heterogeneous social networks facilitates the circulation of information. Therefore, denser (tight-knit), heterogeneous social networks can be linked to the success of rebel groups. In addition, I introduce a second concept, in which social network structure affects an armed group’s legitimacy. Legitimacy comes from a group’s ability to control the rhetoric surrounding violence. Dense, heterogeneous social networks allow the armed group to circulate information about its use of violence. The circulation of information leading the public to view the violence as selective will increase the legitimacy of the group by continuing civilian support. This legitimacy allows the group to be successful because armed groups rely on the local population for support, protection, and supplies. I will evaluate each of these two hypotheses using a paired comparison of the Basque and Catalan armed, nationalist groups of Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (Basque Freedom and Homeland) and Terra Lliure (Free Land). Often, when comparing the various nationalisms within Spain, the division between Basque and Catalan nationalisms is seen as a dichotomy between violence and non-violence. Several authors have attempted to explain the emergence of violence in the Basque region by comparing it to what they identify as nonviolent Catalan nationalism. The dichotomies between the movements are described as violent versus peaceful, terrorist versus willing to compromise (Conversi 1997). A few authors

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KAITLYN CHRISWELL | SUBMITTED PHOTO attribute these contrasts to regional linguistic factors, although this is not a widespread view. For example, one author argues that although both Catalonia and the Basque region have their own languages, the similarities between Catalan and Castilian Spanish allow for better mutual understanding when discussing nationalism compared to the linguistically unique Basque language (Lilli 1994). Alternatively, the regional difference can also be perceived as a cultural one. According to cultural explanations, in contrast to the Basque region, Catalonia had a flexible political and social culture that facilitated mutual agreements, allowing it to renounce violent expressions of nationalism (Hargreaves 2000). Finally, the difference can be seen in the different histories of the respective regions, namely, the historical existence of a Catalan nation separate from Castile and Leon, but not a separate Basque nation (Mastrovito 1993). However, it is misleading to characterize the Catalan nationalism as non-violent. Catalonia also had a nationalist armed group, Terra Lliure. Although

Terra Lliure did not persist as long as Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (ETA), it is inaccurate to overlook the presence of violence in Catalan nationalism. Therefore, the question becomes, “Why has ETA persisted as an armed group while Terra Lliure has not?” What explains the respective success or failure of an armed group? The viability of rebel groups is a question with implications for our understanding of the processes of both war and peace. Conceptualizing the role of networks in a rebel group’s continued existence or disbanding can expand our knowledge of the dynamics of civil war. These dynamics are important beyond academic research because they inform counterinsurgency policy decisions as well as other forms of international intervention in civil wars.

To read Kaitlyn Chriswell’s full thesis, visit NURJ Online: www.thenurj.com




“Acts of Exhaustion” Stéphane Mallarmé’s “Throw of the Dice,” read by Rancière and Kittler Christopher Hoffman


Christopher Bush





FACULTY ADVISER téphane Mallarmé, and in particular his 1897 poem Un Coup de Dés Jamais N’Abolira le Hasard [“A throw of the dice never will abolish chance/ hasard”], have become a touch point for the French intellectual tradition. Across the arts and letters, Mallarmé has incited fresh interpretations more than a century after his death. Since his death, he has been recognized as a precursor of twentieth-century thought, influencing people ranging from the Modernist painters, composers John Cage and Pierre Boulez, to, of particular interest to us, French philosophers in the 1960s like Jacques Derrida and Julia Kristeva. The latter group saw in Mallarmé a pioneering effort in exploring, poetically, the profound ways language shapes human experience. More recently, two other theorists, Jacques Rancière and Friedrich Kittler, have elaborated their own theories in aesthetics and media studies which draw and expand upon that French philosophical tradition. Having read through Mallarmé’s “Throw of the dice” project, Rancière and Kittler align in a common problematic that locates confusion at the center of our media and sensory experience.

COMPARATIVE LITERATURE Rancière and Kittler, by the looks of it, make an odd couple. Rancière has made a name for himself as a political philosopher and advocate for a renewed commitment to equality, while Kittler’s forays into technological history have been interpreted as a radically media-oriented outlook disavowing politics. But they share a concern for how material practices, particularly art, change the grounds of human action—and how these changes emerge in the first place. First, we will consider Mallarmé’s poem, “A throw of the dice,” before putting it in conversation with Rancière and Kittler’s theoretical responses. Together, these sources show another, materialist, side to Mallarmé’s well-known work apart from the interpretation of him as a mystical aesthete. Mallarmé Stéphane Mallarmé’s (1842-1898) corpus is slim: He published four short volumes in the 1870s, including a translation of Poe’s The Raven; one in the 1880s; and two in the 1890s. His poetry combines mind-bending grammar, readable in several configurations at once, with an opaque but evocative vocabulary. Although almost unknown during his lifetime, he hosted a particularly influential salon in Paris during his later years, attended by writers like Rainer Maria Rilke, William Butler Yeats, and Paul Valéry. These writers would come to play key roles in the heady artistic moment following the First World War, though Mallarmé’s influence was not confined to the literary arts. While Mallarmé only ballooned in popularity after his death, his experimentation prefigured how artistic modernism, in many domains, broke from its past forms, and all the consequences (political, social, and technological) that accompanied it. Hence, when Francophone writers started thinking about what defines modern life—artistic or otherwise—many fixated on Mallarmé, whose work predated the most well-known icons of the twentieth century such as Salvador Dalí, Le Corbusier, and Marcel Proust, but undoubtedly left its mark. Published in 1897 but unearthed only after the war by Paul Valéry, Un Coup de dés is Mallarmé’s last and most archetypically modern work.

Published in the same year in the magazine Cosmopolis, the poem consists of 21 pages divided into two-page panels, prefaced by a short, characteristically circular note: “I would like no one to read this note, or rather, having traversed it, they forgot it altogether…” Mallarmé’s poem follows its time in experimenting with poetic form by breaking with the six-foot alexandrine form that had characterized so much of earlier French poetry. “A throw of the dice”’s difficulty stems from its polydirectional verse form, its diction, and its pictorial typography. Mallarmé seeks to tell a story with his poetry, not just semantically with words, but also pictorially. For example, one panel is arranged to form a tall ship listing to the left, another, a falling feather. Representative typography is this way of using blocks of lines on a page as its own image, regardless of the words which compose it. While uncommon for most Western European poets and their ilk, this bewildering form recalls a long tradition in Jewish and Islamic arts called micrography. Because of the difficulty of such poetry, Mallarmé’s work throws the reading process itself into question. No more is it immediately clear how the poem should be read. Mallarmé’s differentiates lines and words by typeface, size, italicization, capitalizing, and their place on the page. Each line is split dramatically across each two-page panel, and the words are scattered (or “constellated”) across the page. Because of these gaps, Mallarmé challenges, more deeply even than his earlier works, the assumption of a linear reading format. Instead of continuous lines on a page, the reader confronts a collection of scattered words, which they must put back together. This novelty will become the preoccupation of writers like Rancière and Kittler who have historicized Mallarmé’s work. The reading he demands travels by different rhythms, speeds, and vectors across the page, and each time it plays out differently. The reader might take the cue from the poem’s evocation of a “CONSTELLATION…on some vacant and higher surface,” to name just what Mallarmé has done with the read surface of the poem. Such a constellation offers any number of directions that might be taken through the text, with all the

“While Mallarmé only ballooned in popularity after his death, his experimentation prefigured how artistic modernism, in many domains, broke from its past forms, and all the consequences (political, social, and technological) that accompanied it.” VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

changes in poetic expression that entails. The novelty of this sort of reading, and the reflexivity involved in making a path through the poem and thinking about one’s path, comprises a key element of Rancière’s aesthetics. Rancière As he has written in greater and greater depth about aesthetics, Rancière’s engagement with Mallarmé has likewise deepened. Broadly, Rancière recasts artistic modernity against histories of art focused on formal developments and periodization through what he calls the “aesthetic regime of art.” The aesthetic regime, drawing on Michel Foucault’s philosophy, is the epistemic condition of sensations shared by a society. This allows Rancière to consider art and politics not as two separate domains, but as two sides of the same condition of sensation. Rancière reads Mallarmé as an aesthetic visionary, albeit one who is fundamentally concerned about his time and place. In this sense, Mallarmé anticipates the transformative and collective principles that underlie what Rancière calls aisthesis, what he defines as the condition— the “aesthetic regime of art”—in which “the identification of art no longer occurs via a division within ways of doing and making, but is based on distinguishing a sensible mode of being specific to artistic products.” This also means that art threatens to show itself in any sensible domain, even if it means disrupting another form of order such as a workplace, the street, or the Senate. Aisthesis as faculty, and art, as object, are the exceptional zones within sensory life in which our regular modes of doing business break down, revealing equality and humanity as the principles that unify us. For Rancière, Mallarmé is not principally a depoliticized writer, but one of the pioneers who first staked out the aesthetic regime. He seeks the synesthetic confusion fostered by art which tends to undo normal, unequal forms of politics. Rancière’s reading of Mallarmé typifies the liberating role the former ascribes to Rancière. To Rancière, Mallarmé’s promise comes from a lifestyle characterized by “dreaming,” and a commitment to the “poetics of mystery” that nonetheless marks Mallarmé as a “difficult, not a hermetic,” writer. Rancière argues that Mallarmé is not interested in any directly metaphorical or allegorical work; rather, Mallarmé conjures what Rancière calls the “ideality of the sensory,” or in other words,language’s power to create a sensible reality, which imbues even objects we would otherwise consider banal. To capture this, the artist’s task becomes a certain form of vision, and the means to give voice to that vision: ‘Dream’…is the gap remarked by the attentive spectator in ‘what is,’ discerning in it the




MCAD LIBRARY | PHOTO disappearing appearing of that which can or can not be…[against the “natural way of seeing”] the dreamer’s way of seeing, of electing aspects… and ordering them in mystery is ‘superior, and maybe even the true one’. Poetry is the pursuit of this truth, of this exact interruption. This account parallels Rancière’s latest and deepest work in Aisthesis, in which the artist sees “through” commonplace understandings of sensation (i.e. a workplace or a street) to the vitality of collective life underneath. For the famous “Throw of the dice” poem, Rancière reserves several pages of discussion. Rancière writes that Mallarmé has poeticized the gift of art to future generations, cast across the blank space of the page, which the theorist reimagines as the “Ocean of the times,” the “chasm of vain hunger…apt to consume that future in advance,” in a “hyperbolical affirmation of pure contingency” that constitutes poetic action. Mallarmé’s typographical innovations, Rancière writes, have no secret meaning. There is “no great difficulty in understanding what this poem ‘means.’” Mallarmé’s “constellations” of the written word “reproduce the topography of the theatre of the spirit, in the authenticity which rivals it with the folio of the sky.” Part


of Mallarmé’s great influence came in opening up new opportunities of reading with his experimental typography—an insight that may seem unremarkable in our age of marketing, but whose force can be seen by Paul Valéry’s praise for Mallarmé’s “rais[ing] a page to the power of the starry sky.” Despite Rancière’s great flourish, another thinker, Friedrich Kittler, would object that he has not gone far enough in thinking through the role of Mallarmé’s medium in understanding the poet.

and Discourse Network 1800/1900, Kittler draws on the big names of French Theory at the time— Jacques Lacan, Foucault, and Derrida, but also their German predecessor, Friedrich Nietzsche. Despite his contributions to the expanding field of media studies, Kittler’s voice has been widely interpreted as vulgar, media determinism, a judgment we will question by putting his work in conversation with Rancière’s, whose theoretical DNA it shares. Mallarmé finds his way into Kittler’s

“...Mallarmé has poeticized the gift of art to future generations, cast across the blank space of the page...” Friedrich Kittler Friedrich Kittler (1943-2011) is known as a central figure in what has been dubbed “German Media Theory,” accompanying interest over the past 20-30 years into the history and significance of media. In his best-known works in the Englishspeaking world, Gramophone, Film, Typewriter


most well-known tome in the United States, Gramophone, Film, Typewriter. Kittler explains that because of the new prestige of the Gramophone, which replaced poetry as the privileged way of expressing the voice, Mallarmé’s poetry expresses a retreat to “letter fetishism.” That is, without the communicative

COMPARATIVE LITERATURE purpose it once enjoyed, poetry’s component element—the letter—becomes all the more evocative and artistic. Kittler, some have said, puts the importance of media over the agency of artists. But this account does not dispense with any of Mallarmé’s insight. Mallarmé responded to a rearrangement of the media which made up his discourse network. He could have redirected his poetic energies into other artistic pursuits, but he remained with poetry. Kittler emphasizes how poetry has been obsoleted from the vital functions of the discourse network and can pursue its own purposeless ends. For Rancière, this would be the beginning, not the end, of poetry as it opens up a new artistic world, one that looks like Rancière’s Aisthesis. In that sense, the full force of “A throw of the dice” was made possible by the shifting discourse network that Kittler describes. Mallarmé’s artistry involves seizing that lost opportunity. Kittler names this “art for art’s sake” an important, if overemphasized, take on art’s purpose. But underneath that title, Kittler’s understanding of Mallarmé involves a more subtle take on the uncertainty and possibility of older media as newer ones come to replace them. Mallarmé’s example opens onto Kittler’s wider understanding of media, particularly how art emerges from these spaces of indistinction and transition in media. For Kittler, media are not predetermined forms, but involve constant shifts and slippages in function and form. Take his example in the gramophone, film, and the typewriter: “After the storage capacities for optics, acoustics, and writing had been separated,” he writes, “…their distinct data flows could also be reunited.” In other words, he is referring to moments like the introduction of sound into film or color into photography, as much as all the lesser-known histories of technological change of the past centuries. For Kittler, media are always over-coding each other, both technologically and in psychoanalytic terms (one of the interests he picked up in part because of his French predecessors). Film was never just a medium of movement; it functioned because of the absence or abundance of sound. This interest in the confusion of experience because of technological novelty surfaces when he remarks that Mallarmé “celebrated the view through a moving car as that of a camera on wheels.” Mallarmé could capture some of the

energy of new forms of movement through an old medium like poetry. In other words, Kittler offers no endpoint for the use and development of media. Rather, its turbulent history is the point ofinterest when investigating media. Kittler portrays this part of his argument as a matter of translation, and the way each medium must be translated into others. Translation, he says, exhausts the person who tries to keep pace with every new change. Translation is “an encounter with the limits of media”, and it “always involves reshaping [messages] to conform to new standards and materials… [It is] accomplished serially, at discrete points.” From this point of view, Mallarmé skillfully negotiated the changes in the discourse network, having the tenacity to take advantage of poetry’s strength in weakness. Mallarmé’s work, too, can be considered an act of translation within the poetic medium, responding in profound ways to its time, while maintaining continuity with its poetic tradition in its novelty. Stretching Kittler’s argument, we can claim that media are “always already” composed of other media, in both technological and cultural terms—enriching each artistic effort with all of the peculiarities of its medium and making it many things from many perspectives. Mallarmé’s “A throw of the dice” is one such example. Conclusion: Mallarmé, Rancière, Kittler Rancière and Kittler’s work hold surprising similarities in terms of their interests, even if one concerns himself first of all with “art” and the other with “media.” Mallarmé’s writings anticipated many of these interests already; this project can be considered an attempt at constructing a conceptual vocabulary they have in common. Mallarmé’s introduction to his “Throw of the dice” is a difficult but excellent example of this commonality. Mallarmé focuses on the temporality and circularity of each reading obligated by its particular structure in his characteristic looping prose. Mallarmé emphasizes the aural aspect of his poem so much that he describes the poem as a “partition,” a score (like in music) or division into parts: In addition this use of the bare thought [cet emploi à nu de la pensée] with its retreats, prolongations, and flights, by reason of its very design, for anyone wishing to read it aloud, results in a score [partition]. The variation in

“Like a symphony, Mallarmé’s partition will be constantly re-contextualized and worked over by new elements, whether it be aesthetic, political, or otherwise.” VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

printed characters between the dominant motif, a secondary one and those adjacent, mark its importance for oral utterance [émission orale] and the scale, mid-way, at top or bottom of the page will show how the intonation rises or falls. This sort of “partition” means that each reading must be unrepeatable: the poem as both a new performance and a departure from the original, offers a new approach to reading and understanding the poem, just as Rancière and Kittler have done. Such a statement fits with its elaboration of chance or hazard [le hasard] that our duo (and other commentators) has emphasized. Recognizing the poem’s essential discontinuities—its tendency to lose itself in grammatical and semantic incoherency—the reader must coordinate these elements in each new performance. Like a symphony, Mallarmé’s partition will be constantly re-contextualized and worked over by new elements, whether it be aesthetic, political, or otherwise. The partition names the common problem to each of these three authors: the shifting divisions in sensible experience and the artistic human that responds to it. In an artistic time, discussed at length in other contexts by Kittler and Rancière, characterized by the capitalistic demand for artists to continuously innovate, Mallarmé’s notes suggest a strategy of making each reading and each artistic act unfamiliar, even as it repeats past forms. It is the object, we could say, of its own mistranslation. Mallarmé multiplies the synesthetic confusion that Rancière describes in Aisthesis indefinitely. Mallarmé’s world is not limited to theorists; his work inspired work across disciplinary and artistic dividing lines. Mallarmé forges an alliance between his poetry’s continuities and its transgressions, the authors, filmmakers, and artists whose work he continues to enrich. Bibliography

Kittler, Friedrich A. Discourse Networks, 1800/1900. Trans. Michael Metteer and Chris Cullens. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990. Print. Kittler, Friedrich A. Gramophone, Film, Typewriter. Trans. Geoffrey Winthrop-Young and Michael Wutz. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999. Print. Mallarmé, “Un Coup de dés jamais n’abolira le hasard.” Paris: Cosmopolis: Revue Internationale, 1897. Trans. “A Dice throw at any time never will abolish chance.” Trans. E. H. and A. M. Blackmore. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Pp. 161-181. Online. Millan, Gordan. A Throw of the Dice: The Life of Stéphane Mallarmé. New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 1994. Print. Rancière, Jacques. Aisthesis: Scenes from the Aesthetic Regime of Art. Trans. Zakir Paul. London: Verso, 2013. Print. Rancière, Jacques. Mallarmé: The Politics of the Siren. Trans. Steven Corcoran. New York: Continuum, 2011. Print. Winthrop-Young, Geoffrey, “Krautrock, Heidegger, Bogeyman: Kittler in the anglosphere.” Thesis Eleven, 107(1). 2011. Pp. 6-20. Print.




Structure-Function Analysis of Sds3

Suppressor of defective silencing 3, a Key Component of the Histone Deacetylase-Containing Mammalian Sin3L/Rpd3L Corepressor Complex

Yujia Ding


Ishwar Radhakrishnan FACULTY ADVISER



t the most fundamental level, organisms must have a method to translate information stored in the genetic code into proteins that keep organisms alive. Gene transcription thus plays an important role in the survival of an organism and is predicted to be tightly regulated. Regulatory machinery exists at the molecular level and is of particular interest to researchers as there is a lack of understanding in how the structure of these complexes contributes to their function. One of these complexes, the Sin3L/Rpd3L HDAC corepressor complex, has been implicated to play a major role in but not limited to cancers and cardiac diseases. Though the role the complex plays in transcription is well studied, the structure and molecular mechanisms through which the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex acts are not well understood. My studies focused on Sds3, one of the key binding partners and the supposed oligomerization domain that recruits histone deacetylase activity to the site of transcriptional repression. Understanding the molecular mechanism of how Sds3 functions at the molecular level opens up an avenue for the discovery of small molecule therapeutics aimed at blocking the normal functions of histone deacetylase complexes as a treatment for various diseases. The work presented here characterizes the minimal dimerization domain of Sds3 and its behavior in solution, contributing to future work of reconstituting the Sin3L/Rpd3L corepressor complex from its core subunits. 20


BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES Introduction Eukaryotic transcription is a fundamental process that is tightly regulated at multiple levels. One of these levels of regulation occurs through the chemical modification of chromatin. Post-translational modifications such as phosphorylation, methylation and acetylation alter the ability of the transcriptional machinery to physically access the DNA via diverse mechanisms. Among these modifications, histone acetylation is the most prevalent, with two groups of enzymes including histone acetyltransferases (HATs) and histone deacetylases (HDACs) working antagonistically to regulate the steady-state levels. The effect of histone acetylation is well understood and is almost universally correlated with transcriptional activation. HDACs play fundamentally important roles in many biological processes and yet they have been shown to be attractive therapeutic targets for treating diseases such as inflammatory disorders, cancer, neurodegenerative and cardiovascular diseases. Gene knockouts have implicated HDACs in diseased conditions such as cardiac malformation or embryonic lethality (Haberland, Montgomery, & Olson, 2009). Certain forms of cancer can also result from aberrant gene silencing caused by poor or failed recruitment of HDAC-containing complexes (Farias et al., 2010; Silverstein & Ekwall, 2005). HDAC inhibitors are thought to be a viable and effective treatment for a variety of diseases not only in animal models but also in clinical trials. At least two HDAC inhibitors including SAHA (suberoylanilide hydroxamic) acid and the cyclic peptide Romidepsin have been approved for the treatment of cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (Haberland et al., 2009). However, despite having these drugs in the market, it is still unknown how HDAC inhibitors function at the molecular level. This paper seeks to address this issue by clarifying the structure and function of a key protein member of an HDAC-containing complex, Sin3L/Rpd3L. HDAC-Containing Complexes The mammalian HDAC superfamily of enzymes is comprised of 18 enzymes divided into four classes by sequence homology (Gregoretti, Lee, & Goodson, 2004; Hayakawa & Nakayama, 2011). Eleven HDACs spanning classes I, II and IV share a common structure and Zn2+dependent enzyme mechanism. HDACs upon nuclear localization are not known to function on their own; they are commonly found as part of large, multi-protein complexes with several binding partners that target HDAC activity to specific regions of the genome (Hayakawa & Nakayama, 2011). Class I HDACs 1 and 2 are of particular interest as they are exclusively nuclear

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proteins and are found in at least four distinct multi-protein complexes, including the Sin3L/ Rpd3L, Sin3S/Rpd3S, NuRD, and CoREST complexes (Hayakawa & Nakayama, 2011). Sin3L/Rpd3L Corepressor Complex Sin3L/Rpd3L is a 1.2-2 megadalton multiprotein corepressor complex conserved in organisms as diverse as yeast, plants and mammals (Figure 1; (Grzenda, Lomberk, Zhang, & Urrutia, 2009; Shi, Seldin, & Garry, 2012)). A key component of the complex is Sin3A (and the paralogous Sin3B), an approximately 150-kilodalton protein that serves as the molecular scaffold for the assembly of the complex. Sin3A/B was originally thought to function as a global regulator of transcription playing an essential role in negatively regulating gene transcription despite lacking any DNA binding activity. The protein is recruited to specific regions of the genome through proteinprotein interactions and, via its associated HDAC activity, plays a role in repression and in the maintenance of native chromatin structure (Ahringer, 2000; Farias et al., 2010; Silverstein & Ekwall, 2005). Gene knockout studies have demonstrated the essential function Sin3 plays in the growth and viability of early embryonic cells. Sin3 deletions in fibroblasts results in a significant increase in growth defects, as well as an increase in apoptosis in conjunction with the depression of several target proteins that play a significant role in cell cycle progression, DNA replication and repair, and cell death (McDonel, Demmers, Tan, Watt, & Hendrich, 2012). Other knockout studies have demonstrated that genes involved in both non-homologous

end-joining and homologous recombination repair pathways are aberrantly upregulated, suggesting a novel role Sin3 plays in the balance of double stranded break repair mechanisms in the cell (Dannenberg et al., 2005; McDonel et al., 2012). Aside from its role in transcription repression, the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex has been shown to be involved in diverse cancer signaling pathways (David et al., 2006). The Sin3L/Rpd3L complex plays a role in cell growth as the ability of the negative growth regulator p33ING1b and a member of this complex to inhibit cell growth is dependent on its interaction with the complex (Kuzmichev, Zhang, Erdjument-Bromage, Tempst, & Reinberg, 2002). Sds3 The novel suppressor of defective silencing 3 gene (Sds3) encodes a 328-residue protein that shows high sequence similarity to its yeast homologue (Alland et al., 2002). Sds3 is an integral component of the Sin3L/ Rpd3L complex, discovered in the context of transcriptional silencing in Saccharomyces cervisiae (Vannier, Balderes, & Shore, 1996). The encoded protein is shown to retain critical protein-protein interaction sites crucial to the assembly of the Sin3L/Rpd3L corepressor complex, helping to maintain the physical structure of the complex (Alland et al., 2002; Dorland, Deegenaars, & Stillman, 2000; Vannier et al., 1996). Sds3 deletions in yeast produce similar effects on transcription regulation as does Sin3 deletions (Alland et al., 2002; Lechner et al., 2000). Further studies in both yeast and mammals have shown Sds3 to be an integral subunit of the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex, required for efficient recruitment of histone deacetylase

Figure 1. Protein-protein interaction networks for the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex in mice (left) and yeast (right).



BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES enzymatic activity. Cells lacking Sds3 fail to incorporate HDAC into such complexes, while Sds3 knockdowns lead to reduced HDAC recruitment of HDACs (Alland et al., 2002; Lechner et al., 2000). Additionally, Sds3 and Sin3 knockouts in mouse embryonic fibroblasts individually produce cells that result in cell cycle arrest at the G2/M phase, resulting in early embryonic lethality (Dannenberg et al., 2005). The similarity in phenotype of the fibroblasts suggests there is an interaction between Sin3 and Sds3, that without one or the other, cells will fail to develop properly. Biochemical studies have revealed that the histone deacetylase interaction domain (designated HID) of Sin3 is critical for HDAC1/2 recruitment; incidentally, the Sin3 HID domain is also the site of interaction with Sds3 (Alland et al., 2002; Laherty et al., 1997). BRMS1 Despite the important role that Sds3 plays in the Sin3/HDAC corepressor complex, little is know about its structural features. Studies of an Sds homologue known as the breast cancer metastasis suppressor 1 (BRMS1) have shown that the metastasis suppressor contains an antiparallel coiled-coil motif at the N-terminus (designated CC1) that forms a trimer of dimers (Spínola-Amilibia et al., 2011). BRMS1 exists in the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex but can interact with HDAC1 to form smaller complexes (Meehan et al., 2004). The sites of interaction, however, have not been clearly defined but it has been shown through yeast two-hybrid and coimmunoprecipitation studies that there may be more than one point of contact between BRMS1 and the rest of the complex (Meehan et al., 2004). Additionally, both Sds3 and BRMS1 are predicted to harbor a second coiled-coil motif at the C-terminus (designated CC2) that has potential roles in not only recruiting HDACs but also other subunits of the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex (Meehan et al., 2004). Methods and Results Limited Proteolysis To determine the minimal coiled-coil region of Sds3, a construct spanning the two putative coiled-coil segments of Sds3 (aa 43-234) was overexpressed in bacteria and purified to homogeneity using chromatographic approaches. The protein was then subjected to limited proteolysis, in combination with electrospray ionization mass spectrometry (ESIMS). Trypsin and protein were combined in a 1:150 ratio w/w and the reaction was allowed to run for varying times before the was reaction stopped by placing samples in a mixture of isopropanol and dry ice and saved at -80 °C. Samples were collected at different time intervals following addition of trypsin and analyzed by both SDS-PAGE (Figure 2) and ESI-MS.


Two protein products and the intact protein were determined from analysis of the mass spectrum for the 30-second sample following trypsin addition. A 141-residue fragment (Sds343-183) spanning both CC1 and CC2 regions, with and without the N-terminal His6tag, was found to be the dominant species in the spectrum although a second species containing an intact His6-tag but terminating at R183 was also found. In spite of the presence of at least twenty-six potential trypsin cleavage sites (Figure 2), cleavage is detected only at R43 and R183. These patterns are also confirmed by SDSPAGE (Figure 2). This suggests that trypsinsensitive sites within these bounds are relatively inaccessible to the protease, thus defining a minimal structure domain(s) within the protein. Incubating trypsin with the protein sample for periods longer than 120 s indicated completed degradation of the protein, indicative of an allor-none property for the folded domain. Discussion Paircoil2 Analysis The coiled-coil structural motif is a commonly found occurrence in nature, particularly in proteins with biological implications. The coiled-coil motif is most commonly found in rod-like proteins spanning long distances in the cell (Steven, Baumeister, Parry, Fraser, & Squire, 2008). In addition to their role in facilitating the assembly of mechanically rigid structures, coiled-coil motifs play a role in mediating oligomerization in biologically significant systems such as transcription factors involved in cell growth and proliferation, signaling molecules, and molecular motors (Mason & Arndt, 2004; Steven et al., 2008). Not surprisingly then, proteins containing the coiled-coil motif are targets of much investigation due to their potential to be targeted by small therapeutic

compounds in treatment of diseases. Coiled-coil motifs are unique compared to α-helices in that rather than having 3.6 residues per turn, there are 3.5 residues, allowing for one heptad repeat to occur every two turns. This heptad repeat contains residues that form a binding interface not only between two coiled-coils but also between the protein and its environment. Of the seven residues, the first and fourth – designated ‘a’ and ‘d’ – must be hydrophobic residues, stabilizing the protein through hydrophobic interactions (Mason & Arndt, 2004). Further, residues five and seven – designated ‘e’ and ‘g’ – often bear complementary charges to facilitate favorable electrostatic interactions between interacting helices. With the Paircoil2 coiled-coil prediction algorithm, residues are classified as adopting a coiled-coil or not based on a pre-determined P-score of 0.025. By these criteria, CC2 is not predicted to be a coiled-coil while CC1 is. When the P-score is raised to 0.03, however, CC1 is predicted to span amino acids 60-89 (the same as when the P-score is 0.025) whereas CC2 is predicted to span residues 129-170. On the other hand, when the P-score cutoff is raised to 0.05, CC1 and CC2 are predicted to span residues 59104 and 127-178, respectively. Sds3 and BRMS1 Guided by the question of whether or not Sds3 resembles its homolog BRMS1, the work presented here suggests that Sds3 behaves in a remarkably different manner. Using the Paircoil2 coiled-coil prediction algorithm, putative coiled-coil domains were established, with Sds3 CC1 ranging from residues 61 to 89. Initially, we surmised that CC1 was the dimerization site for Sds3, as is the case for BRMS1. However, constructs containing CC1 alone did not show any dimerization activity, an indication that

Figure 2. The 30s post-trypsin addition sample yielded two protected fragments along with the original sample illustrated above. Mass spectrometry analysis gave the molecular masses of each of these fragments. Indicated in the illustration above are trypsin sensitive sites within the construct, labeled to indicate the residue where C-terminus is cleaved.


BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES Sds3 and BRMS1 have contrasting structures/ function. Rather puzzlingly, analysis of BRMS1 CC1 has demonstrated that BRMS151-98 and BRMS151-84 adopt different oligomerization states in the crystal with the former forming a hexamer and the latter a dimer (SpínolaAmilibia et al., 2013). In addition, thermal denaturation of both constructs showed non-sigmoidal behavior, suggesting a mixed population of states for these constructs (Spínola-Amilibia et al., 2013). Sds3 CC1 and CC2 The results presented here strongly suggest that Sds3 exclusively forms dimers and the dimerization activity resides within the CC2 domain and the linker segment N-terminal to it. The role of the CC2 domain and its structure for the BRMS1 protein is currently unknown. Structural studies are required in order to clarify the basis for dimerization, as Sds3 CC2 is not predicted by Paircoil2 to form a coiledcoil, and residues in the linker region between CC1 and CC2 are also not predicted to adopt a coiled-coil motif; portions of these segments were predicted to form a coiled-coil but only with low confidence. With Sds3 CC1 not being involved in dimerization, the question then presents itself as to the role of this domain in Sds3 function; the answer to this question is presently unknown. Rather intriguingly, both NMR and CD analysis suggest that CC1 adopts a helical conformation with moderate stability. Isolated helices are rare and the significance of the presence of such a segment in Sds3 is presently unknown. Thermal denaturation experiments of Sds343-234 found a thermal melting temperature of ~45°C, consistent with the lack of direct interactions between the CC1 and CC2 domains. Although further studies are needed to clarify the role of this segment in Sds3 function, we speculate that this segment is involved in interactions with another subunit of the Sin3L/Rpd3L complex. Conclusion Though it is known that diseases such as cancers can arise from failure of transcriptional regulation, how this occurs is not well understood on a molecular level. The work presented here deepens our understanding of the molecular mechanism of assembly of the Sin3L/ Rpd3L complex. My studies show for the first time that Sds3 provides a critical dimerization function that likely increases the potency of the deacetylase activity recruited into the complex. Continued structural and functional studies of core components of the Sds3/Rpd3L complex can open the door to the potential of developing small therapeutics that can target and block protein-protein interactions involved in the assembly of the complex rather than targeting

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the active sites found on HDAC1/2 leading to a new class of HDAC complex-specific inhibitors.


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ter, A., Vannier, D., … Workman, J. L. (2000). Sds3 (suppressor of defective silencing 3) is an integral component of the yeast Sin3[middle dot]Rpd3 histone deacetylase complex and is required for histone deacetylase activity. The Journal of Biological Chemistry, 275(52), 40961–6. doi:10.1074/jbc.M005730200 Mason, J. M., & Arndt, K. M. (2004). Coiled coil domains: stability, specificity, and biological implications. Chembiochem : A European Journal of Chemical Biology, 5(2Mason, J. M., & Arndt, K. M. (2004). Coiled coil domains: stability, specificity, and biological implications. Chembiochem : a European journal of chemical biology, 5(2), 170–6. doi:10.1002/ cbic.200300781), 170–6. doi:10.1002/cbic.200300781 McDonel, P., Demmers, J., Tan, D. W. M., Watt, F., & Hendrich, B. D. (2012). Sin3a is essential for the genome integrity and viability of pluripotent cells. Developmental Biology, 363(1), 62–73. doi:10.1016/j. ydbio.2011.12.019 McDonneel, A. V., Jiang, T., Keating, A. E., Berger, B. (2006). Paircoil2: Improved prediction of coiled coils from sequence. Bioinformatics. 22(3), 356-358. doi: 10.1093/bioinformatics/bti797 Meehan, W. J., Samant, R. S., Hopper, J. E., Carrozza, M. J., Shevde, L. A., Workman, J. L., … Welch, D. R. (2004). Breast cancer metastasis suppressor 1 (BRMS1) forms complexes with retinoblastoma-binding protein 1 (RBP1) and the mSin3 histone deacetylase complex and represses transcription. The Journal of Biological Chemistry, 279(2), 1562–9. doi:10.1074/jbc.M307969200 Reichert, N., Choukrallah, M.-A., & Matthias, P. (2012). Multiple roles of class I HDACs in proliferation, differentiation, and development. Cellular and Molecular Life Sciences : CMLS, 69(13), 2173–87. doi:10.1007/s00018-012-0921-9 Shi, X., Seldin, D. C., & Garry, D. J. (2012). Foxk1 recruits the Sds3 complex and represses gene expression in myogenic progenitors. The Biochemical Journal, 446(3), 349–57. doi:10.1042/BJ20120563 Silverstein, R. A., & Ekwall, K. (2005). Sin3: a flexible regulator of global gene expression and genome stability. Current Genetics, 47(1), 1–17. doi:10.1007/ s00294-004-0541-5 Spínola-Amilibia, M., Rivera, J., Ortiz-Lombardía, M., Romero, A., Neira, J. L., & Bravo, J. (2011). The Structure of BRMS1 Nuclear Export Signal and SNX6 Interacting Region Reveals a Hexamer Formed by Antiparallel Coiled Coils. Journal of Molecular Biology, 411(5), 1114–1127. Retrieved from http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/ S0022283611007467 Spínola-Amilibia, M., Rivera, J., Ortiz-Lombardía, M., Romero, A., Neira, J. L., & Bravo, J. (2013). BRMS151–98 and BRMS151–84 Are Crystal Oligomeric Coiled Coils with Different Oligomerization States, Which Behave as Disordered Protein Fragments in Solution. Journal of Molecular Biology, 425(12), 2147–2163. Retrieved from http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/ S0022283613001526 Steven, A. C., Baumeister, W., Parry, D. A. D., Fraser, R. D. B., & Squire, J. M. (2008). Fifty years of coiledcoils and α-helical bundles: A close relationship between sequence and structure. Journal of Structural Biology, 163(3), 258–269. Retrieved from http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/ S1047847708000270 Vannier, D., Balderes, D., & Shore, D. (1996). Evidence that the transcriptional regulators SIN3 and RPD3, and a novel gene (SDS3) with similar functions, are involved in transcriptional silencing in S. cerevisiae. Genetics, 144(4), 1343–53. Retrieved from http:// www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=1207688&tool=pmcentrez&rendertype=abstract





How did you discover your interest and passion for sociology? I didn’t really know what I was going to major in when I started college and it wasn’t by accident that I got interested in sociology because I was quite interested in social science research, but I couldn’t quite decide which field to settle into and it turned out that the sociology department had really talented teachers at my undergraduate alma mater and so almost by default I accumulated a ton of credits in sociology and I got inspired to do what they did. I was not born wanting to be a sociologist. When you were younger, do you remember imagining yourself in any other career or profession? I thought that I might have wanted to be a lawyer for some time. I never really thought I would be an engineer or doctor. I was always too squeamish to be a doctor. I’m still too squeamish. It was only in college that I got the sense that I didn’t want to be a lawyer and so I tried to explore other career possibilities and being a professor sounded very appealing. What are some challenges that you’ve encountered in your professional career? There are a lot of different challenges. Some challenges are trying to do research and to then publish that research. You have to publish enough of it and good enough research that people think you are worthy of getting tenure. What is a typical day of research in the field of sociology like? I’m a historical sociologist so there are several types of typical days. One type of these days is a day when I’m in the archives and I’ll work with an archivist to identify manuscript collections that are relevant to my research and I will look


Anthony Chen is an associate professor of sociology at Northwestern University. He is a political and historical sociologist whose interests lie in civil rights, social policy and affirmative action, about which his book, The Fifth Freedom reviews. His previous appointments include a professorship in sociology at the University of Michigan and a Scholar in Health Policy Research at the University of California, Berkeley.

at hundreds if not thousands of documents and I will take pictures of the documents that I find to be most relevant that I’d like to keep a record of and look at more closely later. I’ll do this for eight hours with a lunch break. Once I’ve found what I needed there are two more stages—analyzing what I’ve found, which means sifting through thousands of pictures of documents to make sense of them and to categorize, sort and sequence them in an order that I want to write them up in. (Another) typical day is a writing day when I wake up, make a couple of pots of coffee, and sit in front of the computer and try to say what’s on my mind. What has been your most distinctive research experience or memory? While I was an assistant professor at the University of Michigan...I spent one whole summer driving around the country collecting archival evidence in a number of different cities. It wasn’t like Harold and Kumar but maybe just Harold. I found a series of cities where there were all these archival documents that I needed to look at and I rented a car and I went from one city to another. What topics in sociology interest you and what are your affiliations at Northwestern? I’m very interested in political sociology and public policy. I have three affiliations; my main one is with the Department of Sociology. I have another appointment at the Department of Political Science and another affiliation with the Institute for Policy Research. This year, I’m also affiliated with the Kaplan Institute for the Humanities. Where do you see yourself in the future? I feel very lucky to have tenure at a great university with great students, being able to


do research and teaching and living in a city like Chicago. What advice would you give undergraduates who are interested in sociological research? It’s important to develop a sense of what they think we need to know more about. I think that everyone has an opinion about the world but there is a literature in the social sciences that you can interpret as the accumulation of what we know. But we don’t know everything and some of what we think we know, we don’t actually know very well. I think that undergraduates who are interested in sociological research would do well to begin to develop a sense of what do we need to be doing research on. What are the gaps in the literature? What is it that we think we know, but that we don’t know that well? What assumptions are we making that aren’t warranted? That’s a very difficult skill to develop because it requires you to understand what people say we know and it requires you to have legitimate doubts about what they say we know. Having that critical sensibility and being able to identify promising research topics is a skill that you can’t develop too early. Why did you choose to come to Northwestern to teach? The historical sociology crew here at Northwestern is exceptionally strong so I learn a lot from my colleagues in the area being here. Being around people who are interested in the same type of sociology as you makes your work a lot better because you can run ideas by them if you have doubts and together you can figure out how to address your research problems. What’s one random fact about yourself? I really like vintage steel bikes.

ENGLISH The Third Space Between Enclosure and Exposure in 19th Century England Kathryn Ikenberry ENGLISH





ritics have long examined the portrayal of landscape in 19th century literature, often associating the outdoors with liberating activities and freedom from domestic expectations. From Romantic novels like Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice to Victorian works such as Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles, scholars have studied the authors’ picturesque writing, the radical social improprieties illustrated in female escapades in nature, and how nature reflects the inherent cleverness of the heroine. More recently, critics have demonstrated an increased emphasis on interiority, focusing on the relationship between female protagonists and domestic interiors. While these theories are compelling, I have found a common locational thread that not only involves both exteriority VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

and interiority, but one that consistently attracts the attention of Elizabeth Bennet, Catherine Linton, and Tess Durbeyfield: spaces that are neither completely indoors, nor fully exposed outdoors. Rather, these spaces represent an amalgamation, a space more private than open landscape, but less private than domestic interiors. This is the “third space”: an intermediate dimension that merges the binary between indoors and outdoors, thus revealing an altogether new perspective on the women who return time and again to these spaces. While my thesis thoroughly explores landscape and female representation in all three novels, the ensuing excerpt introduces the concept of the third space, its relevancy in the three novels, and close readings of passages from Pride and Prejudice demonstrating Elizabeth Bennet exploring these semi-enclosures. NORTHWESTERN UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH JOURNAL


ENGLISH Introduction Within the first few chapters of Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet makes a rash resolution. She set out on a three-mile trek over the countryside to Netherfield to visit her ailing sister Jane, a decision that perhaps would not be so unconventional if she were traveling by horse or carriage rather than by foot. Yet, despite disapproval from her family, Elizabeth traverses “field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity” (Austen 33). Based on this early episode, so exemplary of Elizabeth’s indomitable determination, critics often interpret her excursions into open landscape as liberating activities.1 The outdoors becomes a venue where Elizabeth can experience freedom from domestic expectations, and is often treated as a metaphor for her broadened perspective and ambition. Thus, Rosemarie Bodenheimer says of Elizabeth’s introductory trip to the Pemberley estate halfway through the novel, “this ‘view’ is a breakthrough in Elizabeth’s vision” (Bodenheimer 610). Other critics offer alternative explanations of such outdoor excursions, arguing that Elizabeth possesses a proprietary relationship to landscape. Susan C. Greenfield examines the trek to Netherfield, describing Elizabeth’s “weary ancles” and “dirty stockings” as evidence of her sharing “the mark (and the mud) of valuable property” (Greenfield 342), thereby connecting her to the very land that she cannot possess herself.2 Regardless of the interpretation, critics tend to stress Elizabeth’s generally positive feelings towards landscape and its salutary effects on her. Some even assert that she is particularly drawn to wide open vistas: “Elizabeth likes being

outdoors, especially in what might be termed ‘landscapes of exposure’” (Wenner 58). While landscape is a significant trope in Pride and Prejudice, it does not categorically offer Elizabeth an opportunity for liberty and exploration. In fact, Elizabeth’s journey “field after field” is her sole excursion in the novel into an unbounded landscape (i.e., one that exposes her to the elements rather than protecting her from them). Furthermore, Elizabeth’s stated motive for traversing the landscape is not to enjoy or commune with nature, but solely to reach her sick sister, which she claims is “all I want” (Austen 32). She asks for the carriages but they are unavailable, so “walking was her only alternative” (Austen 32), rather than an elected or ideal activity. As Elizabeth insists, “the distance is nothing, when one has a motive” (Austen 33). Austen even describes Elizabeth’s activity as “impatient,” thus underscoring her yearning to reach her sister. Since “impatient” also denotes intolerance (OED 1b), Austen’s language suggests that Elizabeth would rather not be outdoors at all.3 The excursion is thus both unglamorous and inconvenient for Elizabeth, which raises questions concerning critics’ idealistic characterization of Elizabeth’s relationship to landscape as one that broadens her perspectives or challenges a gendered regime of nearly all-male landowning and masculine freedom of movement.4 Is Elizabeth’s defiant and liberal-minded character inherently linked to her excursions in nature, as many critics contest? Have critics misread Elizabeth’s journey to her ill sister (or other notable outdoor scenes in Pride and Prejudice) in an attempt to discern a proto-feminist ambition and

perspective in the novel? And if Elizabeth is discontented both when sheltered indoors and when exposed outdoors, where—if anywhere— does she truly find peace and independence? My thesis will address these concerns as they pertain to Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice as well as to the female protagonists from two renowned Victorian novels, Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles. In terms of women’s relationship to landscape, there are obvious and important differences among the three novels. For example, Elizabeth Bennet’s frequent walks in Pride and Prejudice occur in landscapes more mild and picturesque, while Catherine Earnshaw’s numerous escapades on the moors with Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights often result in sickness or injury, and Hardy’s Tess is sexually assaulted deep within the densely wooded Chase. However, a closer examination of how and precisely where the protagonists explore the outdoors, as well as of the diction used to describe these settings, reveals that, contrary to popular and critical assumptions, the landscape often possesses elements of interiority or seclusion. These spaces represent an amalgamation, a place more private than open landscape, but less private than domestic interiors. They constitute instead what I call a “third space”: an intermediate dimension that blurs the binary between indoors and outdoors, ultimately constituting an undomesticated, semi-enclosed venue towards which the heroine often gravitates. The goal of this thesis is not to schematize a fixed model or strict trajectory of the third space throughout the nineteenth century. Rather, I will

1 Other critics with claims similar to Bodenheimer’s include William C. Snyder, who focuses on how landscape acts as Elizabeth’s source of wisdom, and Barbara Wenner, who emphasizes Elizabeth’s interest in exposed landscape. 2 Other critics with arguments regarding Austen’s interest in property include Thomas Hothem, who argues that Austen links property to self-discovery, recommending estates like Pemberley above others because they allow “comfortable distances from society” and “promote personal experience best” (53). Critic Sandra Macpherson posits Austen’s comprehension and incorporation of entailment and possession laws in Pride and Prejudice (8). 3 Wenner further argues that Elizabeth “starts out with a fair degree of self-assurance both in her personal experience in the landscape and in her artistic knowledge of it” (58). Wenner also cites a scene where Elizabeth declines moving from a sheltered walkway to a broader avenue. While Wenner gives this as an example of artistic knowledge (as Elizabeth says, “You are charmingly group’d…the picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth”[Austen 52]), this is clearly evidence of Elizabeth preferring partially enclosed landscapes to the more open outdoors. 4 Land inheritance was a broadly masculine privilege, with the exception of a few aristocratic women (such as Lady Catherine De Bourgh). Primogeniture, the widely accepted practice of property transferring to the eldest son, prevented women from attaining landownership, and laws of entailment “limited the heir’s ability to sell or give away part of the estate” (Davidoff and Hall 205-6).



ENGLISH examine how the third space functions differently in each novel, yet still poses a distinct and recognizable category, and I will question whether landscapes and domestic interiors can be so confidently and categorically distinguished as past literary criticism suggests. Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and Tess of the d’Urbervilles have all been invoked as crucial milestones in the history of representation of women in 19th century Britain and I hope that my observations and conclusions may be extended to yield insights into the relationship of landscape and gender in other novels of the period. In chapter one, I will examine how Pride and Prejudice’s Elizabeth Bennet is neither fully comfortable in open landscape, nor fully content within domestic environments. Close

examinations of Austen’s diction and descriptions of landscape in both exemplary and neglected passages of Pride and Prejudice will reveal how the liminal zones I refer to as “third spaces” actually attract Elizabeth’s attention and become refuges where she can attain a certain independence of thoughts and focus her desires. The third space, at least in Austen’s hands, provides a new type of freedom for the female protagonist, a middle ground that combines the most attractive elements of interiority and exteriority—a space that protects her from the purely open and potentially dangerous landscape while providing an escape from the monotony of domesticity. In these passages I will fully establish the concept of the third space and examine how Elizabeth’s relationship to landscape


is sheltered both in terms of the physicality of the landscape, and in the emotions and ambitions such landscapes trigger. I will also explore how Elizabeth is not the only character who focuses such idiosyncratic thinking and desires in third spaces; the third space also provides an opportunity for Elizabeth’s adversary Lady Catherine De Bourgh to ridicule Elizabeth’s class, her relationships, and even her land, thereby challenging Elizabeth’s own sense of independence in these spaces. Critics are all too familiar, or consider themselves to be, with Catherine Earnshaw’s wild excursions in the outdoors in Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. However, many of Catherine’s escapades in landscape occur not on the open moors, but rather in more secluded or peripheral spaces that are neither indoors nor out. Similar to Elizabeth, Catherine also appears attracted to these semi-enclosures that blend together the most attractive qualities of interiority and exteriority. However, Catherine is attracted to third spaces precisely because she associates domestic interiority and open landscape, respectively, with her two competing love interests. Though Pride and Prejudice often depicts Elizabeth stumbling upon and traversing such semienclosures with frequency, Wuthering Heights provides fewer inhabitable third spaces for Catherine, even though she often actively seeks them out. Instead, Catherine is consistently victimized and tortured in spaces that are characterized by both interior and exterior elements, but that are not necessarily protective, such as gated yards, open windows, and gardens. We will see how third spaces in Brontë’s novel represent a type of purgatory, a space in which Catherine often accidentally, or sometimes purposefully, propels herself, often while brooding on the men she is drawn to and the diametrically different futures she can imagine with them. While the third space never gratifies Catherine as it does Elizabeth, understanding the locations of Catherine’s excursions in more enclosed spaces rather than wide open moors will completely alter our sense of one of the

Two of the three novels were written and published during England’s First Industrial Revolution: Pride and Prejudice (1813) and Wuthering Heights (1847). Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1897) was written during England’s Second Industrial Revolution, which occurred from the late nineteenth century until World War I. 5

VOLUME 10, 2014-2015



ENGLISH most landscape-associated novels of the Victorian literary movement. Hence, in a novel esteemed for its exceptionally wild and threating depictions of landscape, I will highlight the presence of the third space in both famous and overlooked passages alike in order to reveal a new way of understanding the female protagonist’s adventures in the outdoors. Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles presents yet a different aspect of the problematic link between femininity and space. Unlike middle-class women Elizabeth Bennet and Catherine Earnshaw, Tess Durbeyfield is a peasant accustomed to toiling and traversing the outdoors in her position as a dairymaid. Thus, Tess is already exposed to open land in her work and often finds the kind of mental or spiritual reprieve in her agricultural labors that Elizabeth finds in third spaces and that Catherine seeks in them. By sharp contrast, her frequent and often forced habitation of third spaces is counterintuitive. By exploring several passages in the novel, culminating in her brief refuge at Stonehenge, I will show how Tess’s occupation of third spaces is regressive and inhibiting to her previously contented relationship with landscape. In fact, Tess is actively placed in third spaces where she is subjected to aggression and injury, and experiences a total loss of that impetuous and authoritative attitude she exhibits in earlier chapters. The placement of Tess in these spaces repeats several times throughout the novel, an activity that becomes even more antithetical, and even paradoxical, when Tess begins placing herself in such spaces as an attempt to regain a sense of agency and voice. Before delving into close readings, I want to address some historical context from the eras in which these novels were written in order to contextualize the literary treatment of the relationship between women and nature. The Industrial Revolution from the late eighteenth to mid-nineteenth centuries created and gradually intensified a separation of the domestic and public spheres, leaving women in charge of a home now disassociated from and even at some social echelons antithetical to the public, political, and economic realms.5 28

The agricultural revolution occurred simultaneously, with horticultural innovations physically distinguishing home life from city life. These distinctions progressively bifurcated in the second quarter of the nineteenth century, a transformation that may have been an influence on the authors. For example, as Marianne Thormahlen and Steven Wood analyze Emily Brontë’s upbringing, “It is safe to say that the youth and brief adulthood of the Brontë siblings coincided with a period in the life of their country which witnessed transformations on an exceptional scale, not least with regard to the ways in which people earned their living” (Thormahlen and Wood 276). The issue of how people earned their living was tied to the concept of landscape, whether people toiled in the outdoors as a laborer or left the landscape behind to work in an urban setting. These advances in industry and alterations in landscape dramatically affected women’s capacity for (sociallysanctioned) mobility in the outdoors. Literary critic Moira Donald claims, “the increasing separation of home and work, the growth of middle-class suburbs and the gendered ideology of domesticity together created this myth of the home as refuge, as a peaceful sanctuary distant from the trials and tribulations of the workplace” (Donald 109). In fact, women were subjected to more restrictions and boundaries, in terms of both legal entitlements and physical mobility, since the outdoors was considered a space separate from women’s domestic responsibilities. As Leonore Davidoff and Catherine Hall explain in their book Family Fortunes, “Women were mainly still restricted to shorter journeys, part of the general constraints on their physical mobility. Young men were expected to roam, to seek adventure, to go out from as well as return to the home” (Davidoff and Hall 405). Thus, albeit to sharply varying degrees, these novels that not only feature women in landscape but also associate female errancy and transgression with landscape dramatically defy the prevalent ideologies of female behavior. While the dominant historical paradigm focuses on separate spheres ideology, some research has been done


to question the rigidity of this binary. For example, Davidoff and Hall address the function of gardens in 19th-century family homes: “The garden setting of the villa proclaimed the values of privacy, order, taste, and appreciation of nature in a controlled environment. Gardens were now seen as an extension of the home” (Davidoff and Hall 370). During the early nineteenth century, in an era when women had limited access to the outdoors, the garden was a site for emancipation, where “behind walls and hedges, genteel women could legitimately engage in brisk physical activity and even display some aggression against pests and weeds” (Davidoff and Hall 374). We will see how some of the female protagonists, specifically Elizabeth Bennet and Catherine Earnshaw, will seek out third spaces for similar reasons, as a reprieve with an atmosphere conducive for thinking clearly and focusing on certain desires or aspirations. Elizabeth Bennet’s unique attraction to semi-enclosed landscapes introduces a new strand in the binary between indoors and outdoors, one that is represented far into the Victorian era by Catherine Earnshaw and Tess Durbeyfield. Austen’s preoccupation with the third space may be a response to the earliest glimpses of this dichotomized indoor/outdoor pattern that appeared at the turn of the 19th century, a structure that would only intensify as the nineteenth century wore on. Thus, while my main project with this thesis is not to schematize these spaces, I do plan on explicating the existence of a third space in all three novels, as well as tracing the growth and development of these spaces in literature spanning the nineteenth century. From the perspective of a socio-historical narrative, one might expect Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights to demonstrate certain affinities, as both were written during the 1st Agricultural Revolution; from the perspective of a literaryhistorical narrative, the “Victorian” novels Wuthering Heights and Tess of the d’Urbervilles seem to share more thematic preoccupations. While both of these narratives are valid, I believe the overlapping nature of these novels emphasizes even more that we cannot


GEORGE SMITH | PHOTO fully understand the third space from the perspective of a single methodological or disciplinary trajectory. Rather, by examining the three novels’ illustrations of the outdoors, I will show how third spaces are consistently distinguished from more traditionally interior and exterior spaces. Though their nature and effects are complex and varying, these spaces remain important and recognizable landmarks for female protagonists throughout the nineteenth century. Chapter One: Pride and Prejudice and the Third Space During Elizabeth’s visit to Rosings, in the early half of the novel, Austen portrays the two women’s relationship as confrontational and bellicose, insofar as Lady Catherine’s “authoritative tone, as marked her self-importance” clashes with VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

Elizabeth’s quieter but clever ingenuity (Austen 159). Lady Catherine thrives on her own high rank and status, which visitors (and the reader) are reminded of just by examining her estate. Mr. Collins, for example, is completely enraptured with the whole estate, but is enamored even more by the exquisite house than by the surrounding landscape as he gives an “enumeration of the windows in front of the house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally cost Sir Lewis De Bourgh” (Austen 158). Another guest of the house, Sir William, is “completely awed, by the grandeur surrounding him” (Austen 159) only upon entering the house, not by the surrounding outdoors. Unlike the other guests, Elizabeth demonstrates little enthusiasm for the estate as a whole, which further illustrates

her troublesome relationship with Lady Catherine. Elizabeth favors the parks and landscape over the house itself, yet even so, she notes that “every park has its beauty and its prospects; and [she] saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire” (Austen 158). By emphasizing that Elizabeth views the park’s beauty as common and perhaps overrated, and by Elizabeth evincing no interest in the house itself, Austen sets the foundation for a complicated indoor/ outdoor binary in the novel and for other environments that exceed or unsettle that ostensible dichotomy. Once inside Rosings, Elizabeth feels restrained and agitated, constantly chastised by Lady Catherine for her liberal and unladylike behavior. Rather



ENGLISH than submit to Lady Catherine’s constant castigations and remain indoors only to look out “the windows, to admire the view” (Austen 159), Elizabeth explores the outdoors, frequently traversing the grounds during her stay. These excursions allow respites, albeit brief, from Lady Catherine’s hostility, and thus might fuel critics’ impulses to equate the general outdoors with Elizabeth’s contentment. Austen describes Elizabeth and her favorite path: …the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favorite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was along the open grove, which edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine’s curiosity (Austen 165). In this passage, Austen emphasizes the idiosyncrasy of Elizabeth’s preference for exteriors over interiors: “no one seemed to value [the park] but herself.” Elizabeth may, then, have a unique appreciation for landscape; however, her fascination seems to be focused specifically on a more enclosed space, one that “edged that side of the park.” The verb “edged” implies that this path is at the property’s limit, as far away from Lady Catherine’s house as possible. “Edged” also evokes notions of division and separation, which are concepts central to the indoor/outdoor binary and the idea that one can only

exist indoors or outdoors, but not both simultaneously. However, Elizabeth actually complicates this binary as she traverses the outdoors. She is drawn to this “edge,” which transforms from a mere divider or line into an independent, and special, dimension. Furthermore, the “sheltered path” implies a place of concealment “beyond the reach” of Lady Catherine’s harassments. Thus, though technically outdoors, Elizabeth actually straddles the dividing line of interiority and exteriority, and inhabits a third space. In subsequent scenes detailing landscape, Elizabeth is repeatedly attracted to such semi-enclosures in a way that complicates her ostensible dauntless independence.6 In turn, Elizabeth’s predilection suggests that Austen is expressing a compromise to the supposed indoor/outdoor binary, an ideal of temperance that she herself expresses in other areas of her writing.7 Furthermore, during the Romantic era, the increased separation of home life from business life heightened the value of female domestication and the role of women in the home. Homes were considered safe havens for females, as women were deemed too physically and mentally weak to capably manage life outside of the home, most specifically in terms of business or outdoor recreation. Yet for many women, including Elizabeth, domestic life itself became restrictive. This is common knowledge to most scholars, many of whom associate Elizabeth’s attraction to landscape with this desire to escape domesticity. However, one cannot ignore the association of landscape with property ownership, thereby denoting a space privileged for males (or aristocratic

“...a refuge for individuality and safety that is entirely her own.”

women like Lady Catherine).8 Readers of the time would have been aware of land ownership and entailment as overwhelmingly male prerogatives.9 As the inability to secure the Longbourn estate within the all-female Bennet lineage is central to the plot of Pride and Prejudice, it is natural that Elizabeth would feel uncomfortable inhabiting the open landscape, or a male dominated expanse. Thus, Elizabeth gravitates to an outdoor space that blends together the positive qualities found on both sides of the indoor/outdoor binary: a refuge for individuality and safety that is entirely her own. Bibliography

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Ed. Vivien Jones. London: Penguin Classics, 2003. Bodenheimer, Rosemarie. “Looking at Landscape in Jane Austen.” Studies in English Literature, 15001900. 21.4 (Autumn, 1981): 605-623. Brontë, Emily. Wuthering Heights. Ed. Pauline Nestor. London: Penguin Classics, 2003. Davidoff, Leonore and Catherine Hall. Family Fortunes: Men and Women of the English Middle Class, 1780-1850. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1987. Donald, Moira. "Tranquil Havens?" Domestic Space: Reading the Nineteenth-century Interior. Ed. Janet Floyd and Inga Bryden. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1999. 103-23. Greenfield, Susan C. “The Absent Minded Heroine: Or Elizabeth Bennet Has a Thought.” Eighteenth Century Studies 39.3 (2006): 337-50. Hardy, Thomas. Tess of the d’Urbervilles. Ed. Scott Elledge. New York: Norton and Company, 1991. Herbert, Lucille. Hardy’s Views in Tess of the d’Urbervilles. ELH, 37.1 (1970): 77-94. Hothem, Thomas. “The Picturesque and the Production of Space: Suburban Ideology in Austen.” European Romantic Review. 13.1 (2002): 49-62. Macpherson, Sandra. "Rent to Own; Or, What's Entailed in Pride and Prejudice." Representations 81.1 (2003): 1-23. Snyder, William C. “Mother Nature’s Other Natures: Landscape in Women’s Writing, 1770-1830.” Women’s Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal. 21.2 (1992): 143-62. Thormahlen, Marianne and Steven Wood. “Agriculture and Industry.” The Brontës in Context. (2012): 276-282. Wenner, Barbara B. Prospect and Refuge in the Landscape of Jane Austen. Burglington, VT: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2006.

William Snyder states that Austen’s “strongest, cleverest women… are the only persons shown to have an intimacy with Nature” (149). For example, the titles of her works Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility pose diametric opposites, but perhaps Austen suggests a tension between these emotions as an ideal, alternate solution. 8 Critic Sandra Macpherson argues that land entailment was particularly anti-feminine, as it “often took the form of a donation” to male heirs (6). 9 Macpherson claims that Austen not only was familiar with entailment and other land laws, but “she has a highly articulate position in it,” as exhibited by her expert detail in the land settlements of the Bennet girls (8). 6 7



SOCIOLOGY The Effects of Income on Transnationalism and Integration Among Hispanic Immigrants in Miami Sofia Falzoni SOCIOLOGY




his study investigates the effect of income level on transnationalism and integration among 1.5 and second-generation Hispanic immigrants in Miami, Florida. Through analysis of data from surveys and indepth interviews, I explore how income affects Hispanics’ transnationalism and integration, as well as the underlying mechanisms that account for the effects of transnationalism on integration. I find that income is not a significant factor in immigrants’ transnationalism and integration. Specifically, I find that immigrants’ level of transnationalism is VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

more closely related to other factors, such as their country of origin, their relationships with relatives living abroad, and the length of time they have lived in the United States. On the other hand, immigrants’ degree of integration is more strongly related to factors such as their experience with the American schooling system, their level of comfort with English, the length of time living in the United States, and the context-specific characteristics of a city with a majority Hispanic population. This paper helps to disentangle the complex relationship between transnationalism and integration. NORTHWESTERN UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH JOURNAL


SOCIOLOGY Introduction

Since the mid-1960s, the number of immigrants from Latin American countries to the U.S. has been continuously growing. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2011 there were 52 million people of Hispanic origin living in the U.S., accounting for 16.7% of the population. This figure is even higher in Miami-Dade County, Florida, where 65% of the population is Hispanic or Latino (U.S. Census Bureau, 2011). In recent decades, a new pattern of behavior has become visible in which immigrants continue to hold strong ties with their countries of origin. These practices can be manifest in many forms, such as traveling to home countries, communicating with relatives abroad, or speaking native languages. Each of these practices constitutes immigrants’ transnationalism and helps them to maintain closer ties with their country of origin. In Miami, Spanish is the primary language spoken at home by approximately 60 percent of the population. Due to growing immigration and falling costs of transportation and telecommunication, transnationalism has been increasing over the last decades. The issue of transnationalism inevitably leads to the question of integration: if immigrants hold close ties to their country of origin, how are they able to assimilate into the American ways of life? This research will investigate the role of income level on Hispanic immigrants’ experiences with transnationalism and integration into the United States. Although recent scholarship has studied the relationship between transnationalism and integration, how this relationship varies with specific factors, such as immigrants’ income level, is unclear. Some scholars suggest that socioeconomic class might be a mediating factor in this relationship, noting the importance of income differences among immigrant communities. Specifically, Levitt shows that “transnational migration opens up opportunities for some and constitutes a deal with the devil for others… Those who start out with more generally finish with more” (2001: 200). Based on the assumption that those with higher income have more resources to meet the demands of a transnational lifestyle, we can expect income level to play a role in the relationship between transnationalism and integration. Transnational practices, such as travel and telecommunication, can be costly; thus, I hypothesized individuals with higher incomes to engage in transnationalism to a greater degree. Although I expected individuals with both low and high levels of transnationalism to be integrated, I hypothesized that those with higher levels of transnationalism (and higher income) would have more loose connections to the U.S. and therefore have lower levels of


integration than those who are less transnational, and presumably also low-income. I use surveys and in-depth interviews with 1.5 and second-generation Hispanic immigrants in Miami, FL, to examine how transnationalism and integration vary by income level. I identify specific mechanisms of transnational ties, such as respondents’ travel to their country of origin, communication with and relationships with relatives abroad, and Spanish-language level and use. I then analyze respondents’ transnational practices by comparing them against the indicators of integration, such as their English language level, their engagement in U.S. popular culture, and their knowledge of U.S. history. I find that Hispanic immigrants’ experiences with transnationalism and integration do not vary by income level, and that income does not have a significant effect on the relationship between transnationalism and integration. Rather, other non-income factors—such as immigrants’ country of origin, their relationships with relatives living abroad, the length of time they have lived in the United States, their experience with the American schooling system, their level of comfort with English, and other context-specific factors—seem to play a more important role in immigrants’ experiences with transnationalism and integration. I begin by showing that previous scholarship on this topic has neglected to examine the role of income as it relates to immigrants’ transnationalism and integration, and propose to fill the gap in this literature. Next, I explain my data sources and methodology for the study. After reviewing my survey findings and interview data, I conduct statistical and qualitative analysis to explore the effects of income on transnationalism and integration. The analysis is divided into four main sections. First, I explore the effects of income on transnationalism, followed by an analysis of how income affects integration. Next, I examine how income affects the relationship between transnationalism and integration; and, lastly, I explore non-income factors that play an important role in this relationship. Finally, I conclude by discussing the limitations and implications of my study.

Literature Review

Scholars have extensively debated the determinants of integration and assimilation to host societies. Up until recently, transnationalism and integration were seen as two incompatible and opposing frameworks; however, recent scholarship has brought about a transnational perspective in studying integration. Although scholars have observed that transnationalism plays an important role in shaping assimilation, specific effects and how these vary with context are less clear.



Although migrants have been engaging in transnational practices for centuries, transnationalism reached a particular level of “intensity, diffusion, and velocity” at a global scale at the turn of the 21st century (Duany, 2011: 28). Accordingly, the study of transnationalism has been gaining ground in the past two decades, and scholars continue to debate the forms, mechanisms, implications, and the scope of transnationalism. In Towards a Transnational Perspective of Migration, Basch, Glick Schiller, and Szanton Blanc (1992) defined transnationalism as “the processes by which immigrants build social fields that link together their country of origin and their country of settlement…[maintaining] and [developing] multiple relations—familial, economic, social, organizational, religious, and political— that span borders” (1). It follows from this definition that any number of activities that span borders can be considered transnational— such as communicating with one’s home country, traveling, sending remittances, simultaneously participating in two cultures, and using hybrid terms to describe one’s cultural identity. A particular aspect of transnationalism that has been widely contested by scholars is whether immigrants beyond the first-generation also hold transnational ties. One case often cited in transnational scholarship is European immigration to America before and after the turn of the 20th century. In 1990, Portes and Rumbaut found that most of the linguistic, cultural, and transnational ties brought by European immigrants were almost completely severed by the third generation (183). However, more recent scholarship (Jacobson, 1995, Courtney Smith, 2005; Nagel and Staeheli, 2008; Gowricharn, 2009) suggests that this is not always the case. In fact, scholars (e.g. Duany, 2011; Vertovec, 2009; Kearney, 1991) found that second- and third-generation immigrants raised in transnational households are affected by the bifocality of the first-generation parents or grandparents, and “continue to inhabit cultural borders” even if they never travel to their ancestral homelands (Gowricharn, 2009; Duany, 2011: 2). Although second-generation immigrants tend to decrease their transnational practices, they often retain many of their parents’ language and culture and continue to describe themselves based on their parents’ country of origin. I study these factors in order to shed light on the debate of the transnational ties of 1.5 and second-generation immigrants and how these affect their experience with integration.


In contrast to transnationalism, integration, in its many forms, has been widely studied by sociologists since the early 20th century. Early

SOCIOLOGY “Cuban immigrants are less likely to travel to their home country due to travel restrictions; however, they can be transnational in other ways, such as telephoning and engaging in Cuban cultural traditions, music, and food.” research on assimilation, which looked at the experiences of turn-of-the-century European immigrants to the U.S., found that, over time, immigrants overcame problems and obstacles and became more like the native population (Park and Burgess, 1921). Thus emerged the classical assimilation theory, also known as the “straight-line assimilation theory,” which dominated the field for most of the 20th century. This theory posits that immigrants will follow a straight-line convergence to integration and become more similar to the majority group as they spend more time in the host society (Park and Burgess, 1921; Gordon, 1964). In 1964, Milton Gordon differentiated between “cultural assimilation,” referring to the immigrants’ adoption of language, behavior, values, and cultural patterns of the majority, and “structural assimilation,” which results when immigrants are “taken up and incorporated” and implies immigrants’ integration into the “social cliques, clubs, and institutions of the core society” such as the educational, occupational, political, and social institutions (Gordon, 1964; Pedraza, 2005: 491). Under assimilation theory, the assumption is that immigrants will slowly move up the socioeconomic class hierarchy as they become acculturated (Gordon, 1964). In the 1990s, Portes and Zhou (1993) developed segmented assimilation theory, which deviates from the classical assimilation theory and challenges the traditional concept of a linear “straight line” assimilation process. Segmented assimilation theory recognizes that “migrants might follow different trajectories and outcomes reflecting the dynamics of race/ethnicity and class” (Vertovec, 2009: 79). Finally, transnationalism seems to have posed a direct challenge to assimilation theories, challenging the “inevitability of assimilation” (Portes, 1999; Powers, 2013: 5). Among other things, immigrants who engage in transnationalism “remain bilingual, reside in both countries, are economically active in both, and may even hold citizenship in both,” resulting in a particular experience that cannot be described or predicted by assimilation

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theories (Gilbertson and Singer, 2000; Portes and Rumbaut, 2006; Powers, 2013: 5).

Transnationalism and integration

Although transnationalism has important implications for integration, up until recently, there was still a tendency in the literature to “treat transnationalism and integration as opposing social forces, as well as opposing theoretical frameworks (Kivisto, 2001; Fitzgerald, 2004)” (Nagel and Staeheli, 2008: 419). However, recent research in transnationalism and migration studies (Duany, 2008, 2011; Levitt, 2001; Courtney Smith, 2005; Portes, Guarnizo, and Landolt, 1999; Nagel and Staeheli, 2008; Vertovec, 2009) has shown that immigrants who engage in transnationalism “may develop multiple identities, lead bifocal lives, express loyalties to more than one nation, and practice hybrid cultures” (Duany, 2011: 24). The work of scholars such as Peggy Levitt (2001), Robert Courtney Smith (2005), and Steven Vertovec (2009) suggests that transnationalism and integration are not incompatible. For example, Levitt shows how individuals “[keep] their feet in both worlds” by being “incorporated into the countries that receive them while remaining active in the places they come from” (2001: 4). In 2004, Min Zhou found that individuals and communities can use bicultural and bilingual skills to “circumvent structural disadvantages in the host society” and to foster their “horizontal and vertical integration” (Zhou, 2004; Levitt and Jaworsky, 2007: 135). This suggests that transnationalism may be advantageous to incorporation into some aspects of society. Although transnationalism can have positive effects on integration, Peggy Levitt (2001) and Ewa Morawska (2009) have shown that while transnationalism has helped immigrants become assimilated in some cases, the same practices have hindered the assimilation process for others. However, it is less clear in which cases transnationalism is a help or a hindrance to integration. Morawska highlights a variety of factors affecting immigrants’ transnationalism and their integration, including ethnicity, race, and socioeconomic status; specifically,

she studies how immigrants’ socioeconomic class can lead them to assimilate into different segments of society. Levitt (2001) has suggested that class may play a role in determining this relationship, claiming that immigrants who arrive in the U.S. with more resources are more likely to get ahead. Still, it is unclear which factors determine whether transnationalism is beneficial for integration, and the effect of income on transnationalism and integration into American society is ambiguous. More recently, some scholars have identified other factors that play a role in transnationalism and integration. Duany (2011) explains how an immigrant’s country of origin and the economic and political relationship between the U.S. and the sending country plays a crucial role in the immigrant’s degree of transnationalism. For example, Cuban immigrants are less likely to travel to their home country due to travel restrictions; however, they can be transnational in other ways, such as telephoning and engaging in Cuban cultural traditions, music, and food. Several scholars (Waldinger, 2007; Morawska, 2009) showed how the length of time one spends in the U.S. affects the relationship between transnationalism and integration: the longer an immigrant spends in the U.S., the more likely one is to lose transnational ties and become more assimilated. Since the 2000s, scholars have contributed to our understanding of the relationship between transnationalism and integration, identifying factors that play a role in an immigrant’s incorporation to society. Still, this is a relatively new and very promising area for research, since little is known about the specific factors and mechanisms of transnationalism that are beneficial to integration. Because socio-economic factors are repeatedly cited as a possible variable affecting transnationalism and integration, in this study I focus on the effects of income.

To read Sofia Falzoni’s full thesis, visit NURJ Online: www.thenurj.com



ART HISTORY The Work and Legacy of Felix Gonzalez-Torres Identity Negation and Negotiation at the Venice Biennale and Beyond

Claire Dillon ART HISTORY




he work of artist Felix Gonzalez-Torres (1957-1996) is widely renowned for its compelling engagement with issues involving aesthetics, politics, and the personal concerns thought to be inspired by GonzalezTorres’s lived experience as a gay and HIV-positive Cuban-American. Many analyses of his work are accordingly driven by limited narratives that focus on the personal and artistic significance of the minority communities to which GonzalezTorres belonged. However, Gonzalez-Torres’s art strategically uses abstraction and identity negation to create an empty interpretive space for its viewers, which solicits subjective analyses that are commonly motivated by the viewers’ own personal 34


experiences more so than the artist’s identity. This project focuses on the issues of identity made manifest in the exhibitions Felix Gonzalez-Torres: America at the 52nd Venice Biennale and Contarlo todo sin saber cómo in Madrid. These exhibitions presented Gonzalez-Torres’s work in new contexts that reevaluate the importance of his identity in art historical research. Through the study of identity politics, this project considers how GonzalezTorres’s work forges communities through diverse yet intersecting interpretations that often traverse the boundaries of conventional identity categories. His work envisions a model of identity politics in which all participants must democratically seek compromise between their disparate identifications.

ART HISTORY Introduction For those who interact with the art of Felix Gonzalez-Torres, the work tends to linger in their minds and often in their possession. Gonzalez-Torres’s sculptural installations of candy spills and poster stacks are displayed for anyone’s taking, and many museum visitors document their acquisitions online (Figure 1). The collection and preservation of these fragmentary pieces of Gonzalez-Torres’s art reveal his audience’s internalized connection with the work. Given the individual and intangible nature of such connections, the cultural and political consequences of these interactions are often difficult to study. This paper investigates the intrapersonal and interpersonal networks facilitated by GonzalezTorres’s art and their manifestations within the lives and works of others. An individual’s personal identification with and internalization of Gonzalez-Torres’s art necessarily extends the work’s subject matter beyond the artist’s own identity and historical context. These individual subjective analyses subvert the privilege traditionally granted to biographical analysis and identitarian narratives that focus on Gonzalez-Torres’s identity as a gay, HIV-positive, Cuban-American immigrant. Personal interpretations by the audience make his artwork more inclusive or universal while simultaneously diminishing the particularities of the minority communities to which he belonged. Gonzalez-Torres’s presentation at the 52nd Venice Biennale and in the recent Spanish

exhibition Contarlo todo sin saber cómo offers insight into the formation of such connections between art and audience. At the 52nd Venice Biennale in 2007, Gonzalez-Torres’s posthumous exhibition in the United States Pavilion revealed the stakes of this careful negotiation between particular identities and universal appeal; several critics were disappointed by the curatorial choice to neglect Gonzalez-Torres’s identity in the exhibition and in its supplementary literature. This case study illustrates the complexities involved in achieving compromise between identity and inclusivity, the latter of which is both productive and threatening to the representation of minority communities. In his book Emancipation(s), theorist Ernesto Laclau studies the capacity for particularism and universalism to intersect and complement one another. Within the context of Gonzalez-Torres’s work, particularism emerges from any predominant focus on his minority status and its role in influencing aspects of his life and work. While it is important to address the particularities of Gonzalez-Torres’s ethnicity, sexual orientation, and illness, to grant authorial privilege to these qualities is an othering practice that reinforces his isolation from other communities. In fact, the artwork negates these particularisms through its open-ended refusal of categorization and the singularity of any given analysis. At the same time, however, it is impossible to ignore the social ramifications of identity categories and





their continued use in society. This delicate balance between identity negation and the inescapable imposition of identity necessitates persistent negotiation with respect to issues of representation within art historical discourse and beyond. Gonzalez-Torres’s work explores these issues through its strategic use of abstraction, which allows his respondents, viewers, scholars, artists, and so on to participate in that which exists outside the realm of experience assigned to their particular set of identity categories. His work explores art’s capacity to encompass subjective interpretations that draw upon narratives from a viewer’s personal experience, knowledge of the artist and art history more broadly, and countless other sources. In the 2012 exhibition Contarlo todo sin saber cómo, a homemade replica of Gonzalez-Torres’s work Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.), 1991 further investigates the possibilities of such a compromise. A heterosexual couple created this copy of Gonzalez-Torres’s work, and the resultant intersection of hetero- and homosexual identities demonstrates how identity negation and negotiation can form community across such categories. Situating Gonzalez-Torres’s work within new interpretive dialogue extends its influence beyond the artist’s identity categories and promotes alliance between individuals of different minority or majority communities. This process complicates the hegemonic classification systems that operate both within and outside of the art historical realm. The ambiguous and enigmatic nature of this network poses a threat to dominant social order, envisions a model of democracy that resonates with recent efforts to theorize queer identity, and reflects the relevance of these theories to Gonzalez-Torres’s work.

Figure 1. A collection of images documenting museum visitors’ acquisitions of GonzalezTorres’s work.

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Identity Politics in the 1995 and 2007 Venice Biennali The importance of effective negotiation between universalism and particularism was highlighted in Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s exhibition representing the United States at the 52nd Venice Biennale in 2007. The exhibition, entitled Felix Gonzalez-Torres: America, was curated by Nancy Spector with the intention of creating “yet another narrative with [GonzalezTorres’s] work, one that would respond to the nationalistic premise of the presentation and speak to the current diplomatic crisis in our country.” Because Gonzalez-Torres’s art engages so deeply with issues of hegemony and representation, which are often though not necessarily related to notions of identity, even a decade after his death his work was equipped to respond to current events and what Spector called, “the threat of the Conservative Right.”



ART HISTORY Spector therefore shifted her focus away from the conventional narratives dictated by Gonzalez-Torres’s identity, and instead highlighted his work’s ability to respond to other issues. Gonzalez-Torres’s selection for the Biennale was both celebrated as a triumph and criticized as a surrender: while some felt GonzalezTorres’s selection redeemed the rejection of his proposal for the 1995 Biennale, which served as the starting point for the 2007 proposal, many were dissatisfied with the exhibition’s choice to leave the artist’s identity unaddressed. Spector’s evasion of identity was commonly considered a conservative, “dequeered,” and therefore inauthentic presentation of the artist. This criticism highlights the essential paradox of acknowledging Gonzalez-Torres’s identity while recognizing that his work’s use of abstraction strategically rejects such positive identification. This paradox necessitates negotiation, which is evident in the many proposal revisions for the 1995 Biennale by co-curators Amada Cruz, Susanne Ghez, and Ann Goldstein. The proposal hints at Gonzalez-Torres’s identity, stating that his work might contain “references to gay rights, AIDS, racism, and gun control,” but his sexual orientation is never directly mentioned. Instead, the text devotes more time to the discussion of the artist’s faith in democracy and his personal experience with the American dream. The only sentence that explicitly addresses Gonzalez-Torres’s identity was eventually crossed out in subsequent drafts:

universality was at times confronted with critics’ focus on particularities. One critic reduced Gonzalez-Torres’s oeuvre to “art about AIDS,” suggesting his work was only relevant to a “past tragedy” and was therefore less important than the work of living artists. This discriminatory criticism is an extreme example of the isolation that can afflict minority artists when subjected to exaggerated reliance on biographical analysis. The reduction of Gonzalez-Torres’s work to a singular issue and historical context deprives the artwork of the temporal transcendence traditionally granted to art objects. In contrast, journalist Tyler Green’s article, “Felix Gonzalez-Torres will represent me in Venice,” speaks to the importance of the artist’s identity as an interpretive opportunity rather than a limitation; the article’s title suggests Green identifies with Gonzalez-Torres in some way. Green dryly predicts that in response to Gonzalez-Torres’s minority identity, the U.S. government “will probably just look the other way and hope that no one notices that the United States is represented by a queer who died of the gay plague,” which suggests that the implications of Gonzalez-Torres’s queer identity will permeate the exhibition despite its lack of formal acknowledgment. The infiltration of the artist’s identity and its seemingly inevitable inhabitation of the U.S. Pavilion reiterate the unavoidable necessity of actively seeking a balance between universalism and particularism. Extending beyond an art historical context, this negotiation outlines a

more democratic model for addressing identity politics within the broader realm of social experience. The issues that arose from the 2007 Biennale illustrate the impossibility of isolating an individual to an identity category, and alternatively, ignoring the importance of such categorization. Gonzalez-Torres’s work operates in between these two extremes by connecting his audiences through inclusive networks. The connections fostered by such responses constitute a community that reimagines the ways in which identity categories can be perceived and practiced. While the predominant identitarian narratives applied to Gonzalez-Torres’s work are the product of “a society that seems to accept difference only insofar as it is susceptible to classification,” the reinterpretation of this artwork challenges such norms through interpersonal connection, interaction, and collaboration. This more inclusive conception of democracy is indicative of the negatory and negotiatory identity politics inherent to Gonzalez-Torres’s work, and the work’s capacity for social change. This resonates with Ernesto Laclau’s theories about how contamination between universalism and particularism can create a more accurate, albeit paradoxical, understanding of identity. No community is entirely homogeneous, which means identity categories are always united under a degree of universality. As a result, Laclau’s conception of the universal does not contain defined content of its own. Instead, the universal is an empty

The choice of Gonzalez-Torres, a young, openly gay, foreign-born immigrant, as the official American representative would be a historic selection—one that acknowledges the profound and irrevocable changes that have enriched American culture and a signal of optimism for the future of American art. Throughout the proposal process, GonzalezTorres’s identity categories were methodically omitted. In some ways, the 2007 exhibition completed this gradual implementation of identity negation; in the official press release announcing Gonzalez-Torres’s selection, there is no mention of gay rights, AIDS, or the artist’s identity. While this was likely part of Spector’s efforts to appeal to a more universal representation of the United States, the criticism surrounding the lack of recognition of Gonzalez-Torres’s identity called attention to the problematic yet undeniable importance of these issues. The apparent absence of Gonzalez-Torres’s identity merely called more attention to it; Spector’s curatorial strategy geared toward


JAIME VILLANUEVA | PHOTO Figure 2. Installation view of Contarlo todo sin saber cómo at CA2M with copies of Manen’s novel in the foreground. The beginning of the novel was projected in the gallery, which is visible in the upper left corner of this image.



SIMON LI | PHOTO Figure 3. Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.), 1991. space to be filled by different particulars, and Gonzalez-Torres’s strategic use of abstraction similarly creates the empty interpretive space that allows universal connections to develop. At the same time, however, the memory of positive identification remains tied to a particular community despite its efforts to appeal to the universal. This discussion of identity therefore relies on difference while attempting to overcome it through universalizing appeals. This model allows art historical scholarship to move beyond the influence of GonzalezTorres’s identity while maintaining the memory of its significance. The artistic and intellectual exchanges facilitated by art’s enigmatic qualities constitute a democratic understanding of identity. Oppressive hegemony would be significantly destabilized if universalism did not represent a dominant identity category, but instead served as an empty space for communities and identities to interact. What remains is an eternal negotiation whose nonsolution is a prerequisite for democracy. Community Made Manifest in Contarlo Todo Sin Saber Cómo Contarlo todo sin saber cómo was displayed at the Centro de Arte Dos de Mayo in Madrid, and the exhibition title, translated as Telling Everything, Not Knowing How, could be interpreted as a reflection of the challenges of negotiation between the particular and the universal. While Gonzalez-Torres’s art was not exhibited, his life and work served as a point of departure for the entire exhibition. Curator Martí Manen was primarily concerned with the role of narrative in art, but the exhibition also

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discussed the relationships and communities that might arise from reactions to and reinterpretations of Gonzalez-Torres’s work. In accordance with his focus on narration, Manen notably wrote a short novel to accompany the exhibition in lieu of a catalogue (Figure 2). The novel functions as a subjective narrative model; through interpretations provided by the novel’s characters, it guides its readers through predetermined analyses of artwork by Gonzalez-Torres and the exhibited artists. The narrative follows the lives of two individuals, simply referred to as “he” and “she,” whose relationship is closely bound to their identifications with Gonzalez-Torres’s work. The story begins with the characters’ responses to Gonzalez-Torres’s death in 1996. Their direct engagement with the artist’s legacy, which includes a replica of GonzalezTorres’s sculpture, Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.), uses the artist’s relationship with and representation of Ross as a starting point for the characters’ understandings of the artist’s work, their relationship to his work, and their relationship to each other. Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) is composed of hard candies wrapped in various colors of cellophane (Figure 3). The installation initially weighs 175 pounds but its size changes as viewers take candy from the pile. When the amount of candy dwindles, the artwork is replenished. The sculpture makes direct reference to Gonzalez-Torres’s relationship with his late partner Ross Laycock, who succumbed to AIDS-related complications in the year this work was created. The sculpture’s initial weight of 175 pounds represents Laycock’s healthy

weight, which dwindles as museum visitors take candy from the pile. The work is at once melancholy yet celebratory, deeply personal yet impersonal; for those who never knew Laycock or Gonzalez-Torres, Ross becomes an empty signifier that invites interpretation from the viewer’s personal relation to love and loss, or any other thoughts the sculpture might evoke. Such subjective interpretations are developed in the novel Contarlo todo sin saber cómo. In one instance, the female character ponders Ross’s abstract portrait and its implications for studying the work of Gonzalez-Torres: “She has seen a photo of Ross and would rather not have seen it. It is better that Ross is an idea, it is better that even Felix is an idea.” She rejects Ross’s biographical information and extends this rejection to include the biography of the artist, thereby diminishing the significance of the artist’s identity as well as the identity position that conscribes his biographical relationship to Laycock. Encouraged by her appreciation of Ross’s abstracted identity, the woman continues to cultivate a similarly abstracted image of Gonzalez-Torres. Through this process, Gonzalez-Torres becomes Felix. Gonzalez-Torres’s abstract role in the novel differs from the traditionally close association between the artist’s life and work, and this difference is key to the characters’ connection to his artwork. This abstract understanding of Ross and Felix is of utmost personal significance for the novel’s characters, though they struggle to articulate its importance: She is sad because of Felix’s death, but she knows that his death means something more, it means something that she cannot define with words at this moment…. And with Felix’s death something has passed, something related to the fact that maybe [she and her partner] needed Felix to formulate many of the things that they wanted to talk about but they didn’t know how. With Felix they had a shared emotion. Their engagement with Ross and Felix’s relationship is a productive, yet problematic, exercise in empathy. The characters’ connection with Ross and Felix encroaches upon the particularities of the couples’ different sexual orientations, but the dialogue between these two couples illustrates how the artwork’s enigmatic qualities function as a space for artistic and political discourse. This connection fosters allyship: the male character is so affected by Ross and Felix’s relationship that he feels compelled to share their story with guests, and it was he who recreated Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) in his dining room. As



ART HISTORY a heterosexual man, his identification with Ross and Felix reveals a slip in conventional identity categories, which allows Gonzalez-Torres’s work to take on greater personal meaning for individuals of different identities. The male character’s copy of Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) gives tangible form to one example of the many individual encounters and experiences prompted by Gonzalez-Torres’s work. This appropriation places the sculpture within a heterosexual perspective, and by extension, adapts Ross and Felix’s relationship in this context. This act is both contestable and empowering. The reinterpretation of GonzalezTorres’s work blends the particularities of identity with more universal concepts, which fosters dialogue and alliance between disparate communities and individuals. The paradox of blending particularity and universality emerges as Gonzalez-Torres’s art is adapted to serve purposes not directly related to the artist’s own identity, but that nevertheless honor the importance of his lived experience. At the same time, this process necessarily lessens the importance of differences between sexual orientations, nationalities, and other identity categories, which creates the need for constant negotiation between identities. Conclusion The predominant focus on GonzalezTorres’s identity risks fetishizing the artist, his sexual orientation, and his ethnicity, and it comes at the expense of interpreting his work through other means, such as focusing on its untitled and abstract aspects. These important qualities encourage audience participation without being restricted to particular identities. This practice challenges the positive identifications that oversimplify the artist’s work, and facilitates the creation of new and meaningful connections between diverse communities. For Gonzalez-Torres, this practice allowed him to avoid the censorship that commonly affected other openly gay artists. Gonzalez-Torres’s successful avoidance of censorship is perhaps best demonstrated by his selection for the 52nd Venice Biennale. The abstract nature of his art ensured its accommodation within the United States Pavilion through its successful use of disidentification, or its simultaneous presence within and outside of hegemonic order. Scholar and queer theorist José Esteban Muñoz coined this term to promote identity negation through “an anti-identitarian identity politics” that operates outside of the positive categorizations of heterosexuality and homosexuality, thus challenging the merits of this dichotomy and any other binary. Though this practice releases Gonzalez-Torres from the particularism of


identity labels, critics’ negative reactions to the 2007 Biennale reveal that his identity cannot be fully separated from his work. Identity negation and negotiation are balanced as the anonymous characters from the novel Contarlo todo sin saber cómo interpret their relationship through the lives and losses of Felix and Ross. The strong empathetic connection between the two couples and the resultant collapse of the homosexual and heterosexual binary was facilitated by the artist’s solicitation of subjective interpretation and participation. The characters’ mimetic reinterpretation of Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) gives form to the interpersonal ties produced by their engagement with GonzalezTorres’s work. The social ramifications of Gonzalez-Torres’s work bring renewed focus to his art’s potential to activate its audience. These examples of presentation and interpretation reveal the negatory and negotiatory identity politics inherent to Gonzalez-Torres’s work and the work’s capacity for social change. Expanding art analysis and interpretation beyond the presumed objectivity of conventional biographical methods releases the artist’s work from identity labels such as gay, Cuban-American, and HIV-positive, and instead reproduces these distinctions as categorical refusals that are part of a larger project of anti-hegemonic discourse. Renewed engagement with the empty interpretive space provided by Gonzalez-Torres’s work activates personal responses among his audience, the intersections of which cultivate new communities that function within and outside the established order. This reconsideration of art’s relationship to political issues has produced new survival strategies for minority subjects within art historical discourse, and it prompts careful reexamination of abstraction’s ability to serve political aims. Bibliography

Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2011. Adorno, Theodor, and Max Horkheimer. Dialectic of Enlightenment. London: Verso, 1997. Basualdo, Carlos. “Common Properties.” In Felix Gonzalez-Torres. Edited by Julie Ault, 185-196. New York: Steidldangin, 2006. “Contarlo todo sin saber cómo.” Exhibition dossier. Courtesy Centro de Arte Dos de Mayo. “Early Draft for the Proposal for United States Entry at 1995 Biennale.” Feb 18 1994. Accession 00-024 Box 1. Venice Biennale - Misc Folder. Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden Exhibition Records, Smithsonian Institution Archives, Washington, D.C. “Felix Gonzalez-Torres to Represent the United States at the 52nd International Art Exhibition of the Venice Biennale.” May 11 2007. Guggenheim Press Release Archive. Web. http://www. guggenheim.org/new-york/press-room/releases/


press-release-archive/2007/566-may-16-felixgonzalez-torres-to-represent-the-united-statesat-the-52nd-international-art-exhibition-of-thevenice-biennale Green, Tyler. “Felix Gonzalez-Torres will represent me in Venice.” Blouin Artinfo. April 10 2006. Web. http://www.blouinartinfo.com/blog/tylergreen-modern-art-notes/felix-gonzalez-torreswill-represent-me-in-venice Guisande, Rocío Figueroa. “Contarlo todo sin saber cómo, en el CA2M.” dardoNEWS. June 20 2012. Web. http://www.dardonews.com/dardonews/ exposicion/contarlo-todo-sin-saber-c-mo-en-elca2m Honigman, Ana Finel. “Biennale looks to past instead of present.” Guardian Art & Design Blog April 27 2007. Web. www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/ artblog/2007/apr/27/biennalelookstopastinstead Jaua, María Virginia. “Derivas de la narratividad I / Contarlo todo sin saber cómo.” SalonKritik. July 8 2012. Web. http://salonkritik.net/10-11/2012/07/ derivas_de_la_narratividad_i_c.php Laclau, Ernesto. Emancipation(s). London: Verso, 2007. Manen, Martí. Contarlo todo sin saber cómo. Madrid: Boletín Oficial de la Comunidad de Madrid, 2012. Medina, Pedro. “Contarlo todo sin saber cómo,” Arte Contexto. July 30 2012. Web. http://www. artecontexto.com/es/blog/contarlo_todo_sin_ saber_como.html Muñoz, José Esteban. Disidentifications. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999. Pan, Sonia Fernández. “Contarlo todo sin saber cómo: una exposición de tapa blanda.” Esnorquel. September 9 2012. Web. http://esnorquel.es/642 “Proposal for United States Entry at 1995 Biennale.” Submitted by Amada Cruz on behalf of the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, The Renaissance Society, and The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. April 5 1994. Accession 00-024 Box 1. Venice Biennale Proposal for 1995 Folder. Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden Exhibition Records, Smithsonian Institution Archives, Washington, D.C. Rounthwaite, Adair. “Split Witness: Metaphorical Extensions of Life in the Art of Felix GonzalezTorres.” Representations 109.1 (2010): 35-56. Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. Tendencies. London: Routledge, 1994. Siegel, Katy. “Venice.” Artforum International 46.1 (2007): 386. Spector, Nancy, ed. Felix Gonzalez-Torres: America. Exhibition Catalogue. New York: Guggenheim Museum Publications, 2007. Storr, Robert. “Felix Gonzalez-Torres: être un espion.” In Felix Gonzalez-Torres. Edited by Julie Ault, 229-239. New York: Steidldangin, 2006. Takemoto, Tina. “Open Wounds.” In Thinking through the Skin, edited by Sarah Ahmed and Jackie Stacey, 104-123. New York: Routledge, 2001. Takemoto, Tina. “Performativity and difference: the politics of illness and collaboration.” Journal of Arts Management, Law and Society 21.1 (1997): 7-22. “Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.),” Art Institute of Chicago, Web. http://www.artic.edu/aic/ collections/artwork/152961


Disconnect Between Lived Experience and Policy

Cultural integration of Bhutanese and Iraqi refugees during resettlement in Chicago



ALEMAUGIL | PHOTO Members of Bhutan’s Lhotshampa ethnic minority wait at a Nepalese refugee camp. Over 170,000 Lhotshampas were expelled from Bhutan during the 1990s, creating a host of ethical and logical quagmires that are still unresolved.

The Problem of Resettlement

Jatan1 looked down at his rough hands and sighed. After living the past three decades of his life in a refugee camp in Nepal, he had come to the United States, hopeful about creating a new future for himself, his wife, and their three children. However, upon arrival, the family’s cash assistance did not last long and he had to find a job as soon as possible in order to support his family, a difficult feat for someone who had no work experience valuable to U.S. employers. After a few months, Jatan had found a job as a dishwasher but was now at a mutual aid association2 in hopes of finding a second, as his pay was not enough to support the family. But this task would not be easy, as Jatan had no time to improve his broken English or take classes that would allow him to find a job to support his family. Most significantly, Jatan did not feel VOLUME 10, 2014-2015


uring the process of resettlement, a major challenge with which these refugees must grapple is cultural integration, navigating the alien cultural landscape of the United States of America and their place within it. The U.S. resettlement regime is mainly comprised of The Refugee Act, which constructs cultural integration mainly in neoliberal terms of economic productivity and self-sufficiency, regardless of differences between refugee groups. However, this top-down, “one size fits all” construction of cultural integration fails to take the actual views of integration held by the refugees and their distinct needs into account. Ultimately, this disconnect in views of integration leaves many refugees “integrated” according to the U.S. understanding but remaining unintegrated outsiders within their new country. This thesis argues that the view of cultural integration in resettlement policy is disconnected from the views of cultural integration held by refugees themselves, to the detriment of the refugees that the policy is supposed to serve. This thesis then proposes indicators of integration for a resettlement framework that enables organizations to develop programs that more effectively aid refugees.

he belonged in the United States. He could not speak to Americans, provide well for his family, or understand much of what went on around him. Jatan wanted to go home, even if “home” was a refugee camp with few resources and no opportunity. Jatan is part of the Bhutanese refugee community in Chicago, a growing refugee group in an area already home to several refugee groups including a particularly large Iraqi refugee community. After fleeing from their homelands and waiting for years in refugee camps and urban areas for resettlement, Iraqi and Bhutanese refugees, who are the focus of this study, began to be resettled in the United States in 2003 and 2008 respectively. During the process of resettlement, a major challenge with which these refugees must grapple is cultural integration, navigating the alien cultural

landscape of the United States of America and their place within it. They spend years trying to learn the language, social customs, job skills and infrastructure of a country to which they are not at all accustomed and in which they are a marginalized group. To some, the gulf between norms of American culture and their native cultures seem impossible to bridge and they struggle to reconcile what they know and what they now must know in order to adapt to a new life in the U.S. The U.S. resettlement regime is the primary resource for this process and, as such, comes to define what all refugees must know for successful integration. The U.S. resettlement regime is mainly comprised of The Refugee Act, which, as this thesis will argue, constructs cultural integration mainly in neoliberal terms of economic productivity and self-sufficiency, significantly as an effort for the U.S. to avoid



INTERNATIONAL STUDIES financial burden from refugee populations. In the absence of directly consulting refugees, anthropology has produced insight into the lived experience of cultural integration that could benefit resettlement policy. However, this top-down construction of cultural integration fails to take the actual views of integration held by the refugees and their distinct needs into account. Ultimately, this disconnect in views of integration leaves many refugees in the difficult space occupied by Jatan, “integrated” according to the U.S. understanding but remaining unintegrated outsiders within their new country. This thesis argues that the view of cultural integration in resettlement policy is disconnected from the views of cultural integration held by refugees themselves, to the detriment of the refugees that the policy is supposed to serve. The current resettlement regime ultimately leaves some, if not many, refugees still struggling even after the official period of resettlement is long over. The consistent state of poverty for the Bhutanese and many Iraqi, climbing rates of suicide among Bhutanese refugees, and the various accounts of frustration and isolation expressed by Bhutanese and Iraqi refugees are only a few such indicators that the current approach of U.S. resettlement policy is not ultimately serving the population that it purports to serve. There is currently no single mechanism by which to approach the gap between the goals of the policy concerning integration and the lived experience of integration during resettlement. Within anthropological literature, the theme of cultural integration is relatively broad, but has been increasingly framed in terms of language acquisition, status incongruity, and preservation of the culture of origin (Chao, 2013; Warriner, 2007; Warner, 2007; Spindler, 1989; McDade, 2002). There is little effort to connect the views of integration held by refugees to the larger policies that inform their resettlement experience. On the other hand, the examination of refugee resettlement policy and practices remains largely within the purview of sociologists and political scientists who emphasize the neoliberal foundations of a national ideology of integration (Shrestha, 2011; Bloemraad, 2011; Hein, 1993; Joppke, 2012; Ong, 2003). These discussions, focused on the institutions of policymaking, largely fail to take the individual refugee and their understandings of integration into account, even when they may affect the success of resettlement policies. The purpose of this study is to bridge the gap between discussions of cultural integration and resettlement policy within anthropological literature and sociological


literature and analyze the relationship between the understandings of integration within distinct refugee communities and U.S. resettlement policy. In Chapter II, I argue that current U.S. resettlement legislation constructs cultural integration in neoliberal terms for a productive citizen—economically selfsufficient, independence, and English language acquisition. In Chapter III, I argue that, within anthropological scholarship, trends in the study of cultural integration have been English language acquisition, resolution of status incongruity, and cultural preservation, and that, within sociological scholarship, cultural integration has been studied as a construction of neoliberal values – economic selfsufficiency, independence, “laissez-fare”, and “future-oriented” activity. I then highlight the disconnect between these two fields regarding studies of cultural integration and analyze the conceptual framework for studies of integration created by Ager and Strang. In Chapter IV, I introduce my research site, populations—the Bhutanese and Iraqi refugees—and methodology, based in participant-observation and semi-formal interviews. In Chapter V, I present an ethnographic case study of Bhutanese refugees in Chicago, arguing that the foci of their understanding of cultural integration are English language acquisition, cultural visibility, and cultural preservation. In Chapter VI, I present a case study of Iraqi refugees in Chicago, arguing that the foci of their understanding of cultural integration are English language acquisition, socioeconomic mobility, social bonds with Americans, and, to a lesser extent, cultural preservation. After examining understandings of cultural


integration within each refugee population and within U.S. resettlement legislation, Chapter VII argues that the individual refugee groups’ understandings of cultural integration are largely disconnected from the stated objectives of resettlement policy as concerns integration. In highlighting this disconnect, I also interrogate and question the assumption that a uniform policy based in a culturally American notion of integration is the most effective approach to resettlement of culturally distinct refugee populations. Instead, this study concludes that the emphasis of integration in resettlement policy should focus on indicators of integration derived from the views of the refugees themselves in order to more effectively aid refugees during resettlement. This study contributes to our understanding of cultural integration as viewed by different refugee groups in relation to existing resettlement policy and highlights the need for further anthropological studies into the experience of refugee resettlement in order to better inform resettlement policy. Such studies are needed if we are to more successfully meet the needs of the all refugees and bridge the gap between discussions of resettlement policy and cultural integration within current academic literature.

To read Catherine Tyson’s full thesis, visit NURJ Online: www.thenurj.com - All names presented are pseudonyms 2 - A mutual aid association (MAA), within the context of refugee resettlement, is an organization established by members of one ethnic group in order to aid refugees and immigrants of that same ethnic group. 1

“Jatan did not feel he belonged in the United States. He could not speak to Americans, provide well for his family, or understand much of what went on around him. Jatan wanted to go home, even if ‘home’ was a refugee camp with few resources and no opportunity.”

SLAVIC The Language of Marital Rape An Analysis of Russian and American Literature and Law Lena Gryaznova



Joanna Grisinger FACULTY ADVISER

“What happens in our intimate lives is reflected by forces on a bigger stage- in politics and economics, in religion and tradition, in gender and generations….If you really want to know a people, you start by looking inside their bedrooms.” —Shereen El Fekil


eferences to law are all around us. Every day, we encounter numerous instances where the legal system and laws come into action. The same concept applies to the literature that we read, whether it be newspapers, magazine stories or novels. In fact, scholars have suggested that the literature we read, especially when it contains instances relating to the laws that govern our society, is in part a reflection of the societies we live in. Following this reasoning, this thesis aims to discover how the way authors write about marital rape relates to the laws pertaining to the crime, and how accurate the literature is in serving as a reflection of social views on marital rape. VOLUME 10, 2014-2015




SLAVIC Introduction My thesis examines laws and works of literature from the United States and Russia, and compares and contrasts how marital rape is depicted in their corresponding fictional literature, as well as how their laws define the concept of marital rape. I aim to fill that gap in the literature and do a cross-national comparison of literature with some specific instances of marital rape to demonstrate how law emerges in literature and what the depiction of marital rape in literary sources reflects about American and Russian society. Women in pre-1917 Russia were often seen more like objects than rational people with inherent civil rights. These strict gender norms and practices existed up until the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, which “destroyed and undermined traditional norms and regulators of sexual conductchurch weddings, religious morality, [and] established gender social roles….As early as 1918, women were accorded full equal rights with men in all social and private areas, including marriage and family relations.” Although the post-1917 Revolution push toward gender equality seemed positive in theory, the “liberation of women from the

of public information was available about it.” Living in such a society meant that any indepth discussion of sexual relations did not take place, including instances of marital rape. Since publicly announcing one’s rape would be seen as a flaw of the built Communist utopian society, such instances were never mentioned in public and therefore remain unreported. Even though laws regarding marital rape have changed, the preconceived notions regarding the marital rape exemption have prevailed and the previously held mentality continues to be reflected in literature. My thesis strives to explore how that mentality plays out in American and Russian literature, and therefore, how those societies approached the laws surrounding marital rape. By doing so, I hope to explore law’s influence on the societies we live in, especially in regards to criminal behavior. Literature Review Even though sex crimes are among the most controversial and shocking social infractions, they have received little to no attention in scholarly research on law and literature. Similarly, there has not been literature examining instances of marital

“Even though sex crimes are among the most controversial and shocking social infractions, they have received little to no attention in scholarly research on law and literature.” bonds of church-based marriage made them more vulnerable to sexual exploitation.” Recognizing the failing social conditions that stemmed from the “empty plane” created by the Bolsheviks in their attempt to abolish old beliefs and social norms, the state chose to “return to more and more restrictive social policies,” which led to the suppression of sexuality. As a result, Soviet people were raised and lived in “an atmosphere of sexual ignorance” and up until the 1960’s, “sex was practically unmentionable” and “not a shred


rape in novels. A number of scholarly articles have discussed the history of marital rape. Some authors such as Augustine utilize court cases as their sources, while others use other sources, such as state legislative records, penal codes, and other scholarly literature, in addition to complement their findings. Although rape had been considered illegal as early as the seventeenth century, a rape committed between a husband and wife was not qualified as an illegal act. Russian legal scholars, such as Antonian and Tkachenko,


identify what they believe to be the main causes of rape in a society. The first is a low cultural level in society, since a “civilized society” instead “strictly protects the honour and dignity of woman as symbol of its own honour.” The second factor is the notion that certain men have views of “women as inferior creatures whose wishes one does not need to consider, destined only to serve man as the instrument of his sexual pleasure.” Surprisingly, Antonian and Tkachenko also claim that a woman’s own behavior is thought to play “a considerable role in instigating” rape. For women who “really do not want to be raped, and are sober enough to take preventative action, Antonian and Tkachenko offer the following advice. Since some men use rape as a way of overcoming a sense of inadequacy, the woman should try ‘show[ing] him in some other way (not sexual) that his strength and support is essential to her.’” Antonian and Tkachenko portray rapists as the real victims: “manipulated into giving the woman what she wants and is then reported for doing so.” By shifting the blame away from the perpetrators and on to the victims, men who rape their wives are claiming their innocence as opposed to taking responsibility for their actions. Such rapes are not seen as a crime on the husband’s part since the wife was “obviously” asking for it. Scholars have examined the logic behind the marital rape exception and arrived at two main reasons that past societies had qualified rape as permissible and legal in the confines of marriage: women being seen as property and implied consent of the wife. A girl’s father could trade her virginity to a male suitor for economic or social gains. The initial purpose behind the outlawing of rape was to “protect the chastity of women and thus their property value to their fathers or husbands.” By that reasoning, the husband had a property interest in his wife’s fidelity: therefore raping one’s wife was not seen as a crime since it did not infringe any property rights. In other words, the law is an echo of what society believes that behavior ought to be and not what behavior actually is. In the past, male-dominated society chose to believe that marital rape did not legally occur, but that does not mean that it did not occur in real life. Academics cite many myths and misconceptions surrounding marital rape that tend to leave women at a disadvantage. Scholars note that because married women are often seen as un-rapable, as a result women themselves believe that it is their marital duty to submit to their husbands, and therefore are less likely to recognize an involuntary and nonconsensual sexual act as rape. In addition, due to the stigma associated with rape and the desire to avoid showcasing one’s marital

SLAVIC issues in public, women are less likely to report instances of marital rape. Studies written in the late 1990’s thus reflecting the mentality of that time period, explain that complaining about an instance of rape was seen as demonstrating one’s marital problems, and since sex is seen as a personal matter between the husband and wife, legal authorities stayed away from becoming involved in couple’s private lives and did not prosecute accusations of marital rape. As Klarfeld notes, society historically believed that marital harmony would be disturbed if the law encroached on the personal affairs of individuals and monitored the private lives of couples. However, no one thought to consider the following logical idea - in couples where marital rape occurs, it is probably very unlikely that the couple is living in harmony in the first place. Society also believed that if women were allowed to press charges against their husbands for rape, prosecution would be used by a vindictive wife as retaliation or to receive a more favorable ruling in cases of divorce or custody. As in Russia, there exist a number of rape myths in the United States as well, which discredit legitimate rape accusations. Thus, there exist the conceptions according to which women who are raped are somehow “asking for it” through their behavior or manner of dress, all women secretly want to be raped, and that the victims did not fight back strongly enough to constitute “real” rape. Even though today these myths are no longer widely believed, the statements must be based on actual preconceived notions that existed a number of years ago. Even though laws regarding marital rape have changed in the past 300 years, the preconceived notions regarding the marital rape exemption have prevailed and the previously held mentality continues to be reflected in literature today. Most scholars in the field believe that literature can be seen, in a significant degree, as a reflection of law. As the result of this study, I will address how this mentality presents itself in Russian and American literary works and what it tells us about how both societies approach the law. Methodology For my research, I have analyzed various literary sources that portray instances of marital rape. I have reviewed Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell as an example of American literature, and Cement by Fyodor Gladkov (“Цемент” by Федор Гладков), and Generations of Winter by Vasily Aksyonov (“МосковскаяCагa : Война и тюрьма” by ВасилийАксенов) as examples of Russian literature. In my thesis, I analyze original language

VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

texts for the purpose of extracting the most accurate connotation and meaning of the language. In instances where I reference Russian literature, I provide the original quotation in the footnotes section while also providing what I, as a bilingual researcher, consider to be the best personal translation according to content and connotation. When discussing both American and Russian literature, I summarize the text and the specific scenes while paying particular attention to gendered language and language relevant to rape, love, and marriage relations. Results, Analysis, and Discussion In analyzing “Цемент” (Cement) by Федор Гладков (Fyodor Gladkov) , we encounter the protagonist, Gleb, returning home from the Russian Civil War to discover that both his town and his wife, Dasha, have drastically changed while he was away. His formerly submissive wife now aims to be the empowered Soviet “new woman,” and Gleb finds that her heart has hardened. In Part Two, Section One, Gladkov describes numerous tremulous interactions of the couple at home. Gleb is observing his wife and describes the “old” Dasha to be dead, with a “new” Dasha in front of him, with a scarlet bandana wrapped around her head, her eyes fierce and harsh . Gleb recalls how Dasha returns his kisses tentatively, with worry in her eyes. He mentions that every time he approached her filled with carnal desire and passion, she would become aggravated and say, “now you hold on there a minute,” which would sting him as if she were to slap him across the face. Dasha would continue to reprimand him, asking why he “did not see a person in her,” why he did not consider her a “comrade,” and explain that she has changed and is no longer just a “plain woman,” but a valuable person. To this, Gleb roughly replies that he currently needs “a plain woman” as opposed to a person and questions whether he “still has the right to have his wife,” or has he turned into a complete fool. As we continue reading this section, we see Gleb recall another episode where Dasha, while changing for bed, mentions that she knows that he was probably with other women while away. An argument ensues and Gleb, deciding to test if their previous “love” still exists, forcefully grabs Dasha and throws her on the bed. Dasha begins to fight back, her body contorting as she struggles to free herself from his grasp. Suddenly, she kicks him off the bed and stands up. Gleb begins to plead that he does not understand why she is “torturing” him, to which Dasha responds that she refuses to engage in any relations with him until they know each other once again. In this episode, we witness an attempted marital rape. Through his complaint that he wants a “plain woman” at the moment as

opposed to a “comrade,” Gleb is referring to his desire to have sex as opposed to engage in stimulating conversation. By using the phrase “plain woman,” he implies that any woman, even one off the street would do. From his phrasing, we can conclude that he does not want to have intimate relations with Dasha because she is his wife, but because she is just a simple means to satisfy his urges. Gleb equates not having the right to “have his wife” to being a fool. By doing so, we see the right to demand sex from one’s wife at any moment as a way to maintain a proper social status and power. Dasha’s refusal to submit to him insults his pride and catches him off guard since he has never experienced such denial before. By justifying his actions as a way to test if their previous “love” is still present, Gleb is defining “love” as Dasha’s “submission.” This episode presents a direct correlation between “love” and sex and leads to the assumption that a “loving” marriage or relationship, a notion that is often mentioned and couples, both in this novel and in American and Russian societies, strive to achieve, is defined by a submissive woman, or that “love” must be proven through a carnal act. In Vasily Aksyonov’s “МосковскаяСага: Война и тюрьма” (Generations of Winter: Book 2) , we encounter Nikita and Veronika reuniting after four years apart .The couple is finally alone for the first time and they begin discussing Veronika’s experience in a labor camp. Nikita mentions to Veronika that she has remained as pretty and lovely as when he last saw her, but Veronika flinches and upon looking at his face sees something frightening and unrecognizable. Veronika recalls that previously, even after a short time apart, Nikita would right away drag her upstairs and unless he got what he wanted, would be unable to converse with anyone. However, now, after four years apart, he spent several hours downstairs and smiled at everyone, even at her, but not in the same wanting way that he used to. Nikita proceeds to sit Veronika down on his lap, murmuring that she still uses the same perfume, and begins to unbutton Veronika’s dress, to which she proposes that they just go to bed. Nikita continues to question her about her time in the labor camp, and thus suddenly feels himself lose all control. He suddenly grabs her and turns her back to him. As he catches his reflection in the window, he sees what he describes to be a highly pornographic image of an officer with a half-undressed “plain woman,” an image that stirs up everything inside him. Afterwards, they both lay motionlessly on the bed, Veronika with her face buried in a blanket. They were both utterly filled with anguish and sorrow and realized that they would never be able to return to the pure gentleness and passion that



SLAVIC they had previously shared, and that all that remained between them was only prostitution. After Veronika notices that Nikita has fallen asleep, she begins to pace around the room in distress. She suddenly sits down on the floor by her dresser, and breaks down crying under the weight of her grief, shame, and hopelessness. In this episode, we witness Nikita, frustrated his time in the prison camp, rape his wife Veronika. Veronika sees something frightening and unrecognizable in his face, meaning that she has never seen this side of him before and it is scaring her. Aksyonov then describes Nikita as losing control, as if it was not his choice to rape his wife. In fact, when Nikita catches his reflection in the window, he describes what he sees as if he was viewing someone else. He has a visceral reaction to what he sees because he himself realized what he is doing and is disgusted and ashamed of it. At that moment, Nikita realizes that, like Dasha and Gleb in Cement, his relationship with Veronika has forever changed and they will never go back to the way they previously were. Nikita regrets what he did, which is a sign that this carnal act was not consensual. We also see Veronika experience grief, shame, and hopelessness after the incident, pacing around the room and feeling like a prostitute with her own husband. Her husband degrades her much like she was degraded in the labor camp, and consequently, she portrays feeling used and is in deep distress over the episode. In the episode, Nikita takes out his frustration and anger at the outside world and his experiences in the past four years on Veronika. He does not rape her to be malicious or to hurt her, as demonstrated by his guilt and shame following the incident. Veronika merely becomes caught in the crossfire of his emotions. Nikita is not trying to get what he believes to be his “marital right,” nor does he exhibit any signs of viewing Veronika in a degrading light. Nikita’s frustrations with the outside world got the best of him and he took them out on the closest person to him. In Chapter 54 of Gone with the Wind, we encounter an interaction between Scarlet and drunken Rhett, who is described as “a terrifying faceless black bulk that swayed slightly on its feet.” After a short conversation about the night’s events, Rhett tells Scarlett that he loves her and suddenly seizes her: He swung her off her feet into his arms and started up the stairs. Her head was crushed against his chest and she heard the hard hammering of his heart beneath her ears. He hurt her and she cried out, muffled, frightened. Up the stairs he went in the utter darkness, up, up, and she was wild with fear. He was


“Marital rape was not recognized as a crime in the 1860s or in 1936, and therefore it would not be as shocking as it is in present-day society to portray a rape where the woman appears to like it, as expected of her by society.” a mad stranger and this was a black darkness she did not know, darker than death. He was like death, carrying her away in arms that hurt. She screamed, stifled against him and he stopped suddenly on the landing and, turning her swiftly in his arms, bent over and kissed her with a savagery and a completeness that wiped out everything from her mind but the dark into which she was sinking and the lips on hers. He was shaking, as though he stood in a strong wind, and his lips, traveling from her mouth downward to where the wrapper had fallen from her body, fell on her soft flesh….She tried to speak and his mouth was over hers again. When she awoke the next morning, he was gone.…The man who had carried her up the dark stairs was a stranger of whose existence she had not dreamed. He had humbled her, hurt her, used her brutally through a wild mad night and she had gloried in it…. Rhett loved her! At least, he said he loved her and how could she doubt it now? In this passage, we see how Rhett takes Scarlett by force, crushing her head against her chest, humble, hurt, and use her “brutally through a wild mad night.” Scarlett is described as being frightened by the “black darkness.” She screams, stifles herself against him, obviously struggling to get away from Rhett. One does not usually associate words such as “brutal,” “crushing,” “fear,” or “hurt” with a consensual and pleasant sexual experience. Scarlett is attempting to escape from Rhett who is scaring and obviously hurting her. If one would read this passage, they would describe this as a scene of violence and force. The scene is described


with vocabulary which is not used to describe voluntary sexual relations. However, at the end of the passage, the reader is told that Scarlett “gloried in” the experience. The message that this passage is sending to the reader is that Rhett raped Scarlett, and she seems to like it. We see her as waking up the next morning and remembering that she “gloried in” the abuse and ecstatic at the realization that Rhett loves her. In fact, she sees the rape as a demonstration of Rhett’s love for her. Once again, sex, and more specifically, forced sex, are being presented as visible markers or signs of love. Scarlett’s reaction to the rape can be attributed to the social norms by which she has been raised. She has been raised “to consider sex merely a duty of marriage-the less said about it the better.” Therefore, Scarlett may not recognize that coercion and force are not usual parts of sex. She grew up in a society that did not discuss sex, especially not with young ladies, and therefore all she knows and believes to be right is that it is her marital duty to submit to her husband. Thus, in the previous described scene, Scarlett feels that she must be happy about what happened in the morning, because she was taught that it was her duty to do so as a way to maintain marital bliss. Marital rape was not recognized as a crime in the 1860s or in 1936, and therefore it would not be as shocking as it is in present-day society to portray a rape where the woman appears to like it, as expected of her by society. There exists a lot of discourse about whether this scene in Gone with the Wind is actually rape or just rough sex. Some argue that Scarlett was in fact raped and consequently novels such as Gone with the Wind render the reality of rape as invisible by portraying “the rapist as a handsome man whose domination is pleasurable in bed,

SLAVIC and portray women as happy to have their own sexual choices and refusals crushed by such men.” Those who read the novel from a feminist perspective argue that “to try and make Scarlett finally fall in love with Rhett after all this is the ultimate insult to women,” since it gives men the green light “to abuse and humiliate women and if they do so badly enough the women will fall in love with them in return.” Such critics claim that the scene reinforces erroneous stereotypes portraying “women secretly desire to be taken by force,” and that men are led to commit the “‘ultimate act of domination’ because he is denied ‘the privileges he assumes are his right,’” which is common in twentieth-century American Southern fiction. Others “recognize the ambiguous nature of the encounter and interpret it as a scene of mutually pleasurable rough sex,” citing her giggling in the afterglow as their evidence. However, these claims only reinforce the previously discussed myths that woman secretly want to be taken by force, and thus reinforcing false rape myths. Despite Scarlett reacting masochistically to her rape by Rhett, I still believe that this episode is an example of marital rape, which is telling of the prevailing society norm of male aggressive and female submissiveness, in which Gone with the Wind takes place. Even though all the novels analyzed portray a scene relating to marital rape, the background and social impact of the novels differ. For example, Gladkov’s Cement is an example of Socialist Realism writing. Dasha is portrayed as the ideal “new Soviet woman” who is socially equal to men and also politically active. Having Cement as a socialist realist novel presents a complication in my analysis, because it portrays how society should be as opposed to what society was actually like. Gleb and Dasha portray the pre-/post-revolution set of social norms and laws, but due to the genre of the novel, I cannot for sure claim whether Gladkov portrays the reality as it then was, or an idealistic wishful view of Soviet society. On the other hand, Mitchell is writing about a time period which existed approximately 80 years before she writes the novel, so even if social attitudes towards marital rape had changed, the marital rape exemption was still in place during both time periods. The novel reflects society’s views on the acceptability of marital rape and portrays a disturbing message: not only is marital rape not a crime or an unacceptable act, it is, in fact, what the woman wants, as demonstrated by Scarlett’s reaction in the morning-after scene. Although none of the novels explicitly use the word “rape” to describe the scenes, it can be inferred that the author’s apprehension to name appropriately the violent act that occurred is due to the general lack of openness about this topic.

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In the United States, what occurred between Rhett and Scarlett would not be considered to be marital rape (since in the eyes of the law it did not exist), while in the Soviet Union sex was not discussed, so instances of marital rape would not be called to the public’s attention. Conclusions By analyzing Russian and American literature and law, this thesis revealed the mindset of husband rapists; including the guilt some of the described protagonists have experienced, and the factors that lead them to commit such acts of violence. Marital rape often occurs when the man feels that he must assert his dominance and re-gain power in his life. Gone with the Wind, a novel written in America at the time when the marital rape exemption was in place, demonstrates the victim seemingly enjoying the encounter, and thus not portraying the carnal act as criminal, as it actually should had been perceived by the readers. Generations of Winter portrays a guilty perpetrator, reflecting the post-Soviet mentality of the author even though the plot takes place during the Soviet era. Soviet literature often reflects the legal and general social changes and shift towards gender equality that were occurring, and thus demonstrating the clash of old vs. new mentalities. Although marital rape in both American and Russian literature can be explained by the laws and the prevailing mentality which were in place at the time, I cannot make universal claims that the literature completely and accurately reflects the views of society. As with any literary work, these novels may purely be a mirror which exposes the very personal or individual thoughts and perspectives of the authors. However, if we are seeing the authors as products and also potential “reflectors” of the environment they live in, at least some portions of their descriptions of instances of marital rape can be attributed to the American and Russian societies as a whole. Through its analysis of both law and literature, this thesis helps us gain a better understanding of how the society we live in shapes our understanding of the ways of the world, including how we write about it. Biblography

Attwood, Lynne .“‘She was asking for it’: rape and domestic violence against women.” In Post- Soviet women: from the Baltic to Central Asia, edited by Mary Buckley, 99-118. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Augustine, Rene I. “Marriage: The Safe Haven for Rapists.” Journal of Family Law 29, no. 3 (199091): 559-90. Barry, Susan. “Spousal Rape: The Uncommon Law.” American Bar Association Journal 66, no. 9 (Sept. 1980):1088-91.

Bessmer, Sue. The Laws of Rape. New York: Praeger Publishers, 1984. Connerton, Kelly C. “The Resurgence of the Marital Rape Exemption: The Victimization of Teens by their Statutory Rapists.” Albany Law Review 61, no.1 (Fall 1997): 237-85. “Common myths about rape.”Accessed February 20, 2014.http://www.rapecrisis.org.uk/ commonmyths2.php. El Feki, Shereen. “A little-told tale of sex and sensuality.” Filmed June 2013. TED video, 1:53. Posted January 2014. http://www.ted.com/talks/ shereen_el_feki_a_little_told_tale_of_sex_and_ sensuality.html. Eskow, Lisa. “The Ultimate Weapon?: Demythologizing Spousal Rape and Reconceptualizing Its Prosecution.” Stanford Law Review 48, no. 3 (Feb. 1996): 677-709. Gelles, Richard J. “Power, Sex, and Violence: The Case of Marital Rape.” The Family Coordinator 26, no. 4 (1977): 339 -47. Griffin, Moira. “In 44 States, It’s Legal to Rape Your Wife: When a woman says ‘I do,’ she gives up her right to say ‘I won’t.” Student Lawyer 9, no. 1 (1980): 21-3, 57-61. Khodyreva, N. Sexism and Sexual Abuse in Russia. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University, 1996. As cited by Stickley, Andrew, Irina Timofeeva, and PärSparén. “Risk Factors for Intimate Partner Violence Against Women in St. Petersburg, Russia.” Violence Against Women 14, no.4 (2008): 483-95. Klarfeld, Jessica. “Striking Disconnect: Marital Rape Law’s Failure to Keep Up with Domestic Violence Law.” American Criminal Law Review 48, no.4 (2001): 1819- 41. Kon, Igor S. The Sexual Revolution in Russia: From the Age of the Czars to Today. Translated by James Riordan. New York: The Free Press, 1995. Kuntz, Tom. “Word for Word.A Scholarly Debate; Rhett and Scarlett: Rough Sex Or Rape? Feminists Give a Damn.” TheNew York Times.February 19, 1995. http://www.nytimes. com/1995/02/19/ weekinre vie w/word-for-worda-s cholarlydebate-rhett-scarlett-rough-sex-rape-feministsgive.html. Mahoney, Patricia and Linda M. Williams.”Sexual Assault in Marriage: Prevalence, Consequences, and Treatment of Wife Rape.” In Partner Violence: A Comprehensive Review of 20 Years of Research. Edited by J. Jasinski and Linda Williams.Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998. Mitchell, Margaret. Gone With the Wind. New York: Scribner, 2011. Sitton, Jaye. “Old Wine in New Bottles.”North Carolina Law Review 72, no.1 (1993): 1-32. “Socialist Realism.” Wikipedia. Last modified on February 17, 2014. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Socialist_realism. Taylor, Helen. Scarlett’s Women: “Gone with the Wind” and Its Female Fans. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989. Аксенов, Василий. Московскаясага: Война и тюрьма. http://book-online.com.ua/read.php? book=7517&page=1. “Глава 18.Преступленияпротивполовой.” http:// www.abo-c.ru/uchebnik/kodeks/ugolovnii_ kodeks/glava18.php. Гладков, Федор. Цемент. http://knigosite.org/library/



POLITICAL SCIENCE Bombs and Ballot Boxes The Electoral Participation of Terrorist Groups Brian Yost POLITICAL SCIENCE

Jonathan Caverley


Mauro Gilli





ecent waves of democratization and the rise of terrorist groups as important transnational political actors have spurred new study of the relationship of terrorism and democracy. Specifically, scholars debate the conditions under which terrorist groups participate in elections, a phenomenon that seemingly conflicts with the peaceful mechanisms of dispute resolution central to democracy. The current literature often begs the question by arguing terrorist groups participate in elections when they have the political will to do so or when the 46


political systems changes in a manner conducive to terrorist electoral participation. This paper uses binary and multinomial logit regression to test the effects of structural factors on the probability of terrorist groups participating in elections and governments allowing them to do so. This paper finds, ceteris paribus, that a terrorist group that maintains relatively equal balance of forces to the state it operates in will participate in elections with a greater likelihood than a terrorist group exhibiting significantly stronger or significantly weaker relative forces.

POLITICAL SCIENCE Introduction On August 31, 1994, the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) ceased all terrorist and militant operations, opting instead for a political solution and to promote Irish Republicanism through participation in elections (albeit through the political party Sinn Féin). This pivotal moment in the violent struggle for a united Ireland marked the culmination of the PIRA’s decadeslong strategy of engaging in deadly terrorist attacks and participating in elections via its Sinn Féin proxy (English 2003). During the “Irish Troubles,” the PIRA was paralleled by a terrorist group warring against France for the independence of Corsica. This group, the Front de Liberation Nationale de la Corse (FLNC), has never participated in national elections however, and has engaged in a solely violent campaign for Corsican independence since its founding in 1976 (University of Maryland 2008). The variation in outcome between these two similar groups, both nationalistic, terrorist organizations fighting for independence from powerful, democratic, European states, illustrates a fundamental question in the study of terrorism. Why do some terrorist groups participate in elections, while others do not? In this article, I discuss the factors that may affect the participation of terrorist organizations in competitive elections and systematically test the empirical validity of these factors on a panel dataset I have constructed. Many theorists of democracy and conflict argue that democratic institutions offer citizens non-violent methods of seeking redress for their grievances (Ross 1993; Eyerman 1998). Their research indicates that democracy itself should prevent the creation of terrorist groups. Surprisingly however, many terrorist groups take advantage of these democratic institutions (i.e. elections) for the advancement of their cause while continuing to engage in terrorism. Building off the limited literature on the electoral participation of terrorist organizations, I test whether the geographic orientation of a terrorist group with respect to its target state (whether it is based in a foreign state or safe haven), the relative forces of a terrorist group and its target state, and the degree a host state’s political fragmentation would impact the likelihood that a terrorist group will participate in competitive elections. In testing these three hypotheses, I find support only for the second. The empirical results suggest that terrorist groups are more likely to participate in elections where relative parity of forces exists between the state and terrorist group. The remainder of this paper proceeds in five chapters. In the second

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chapter, I define relevant terms and present my hypotheses on the relationship of goalorientation, the relative forces of the states and terrorist groups, and the fragmentation of the political system to the likelihood a terrorist group will participate in elections. In the third chapter, I will discuss the findings of the empirical analysis. Finally, I conclude by discussing the limitations of my analysis, the implications of my findings, and possible avenues for further research. Definitions and Hypotheses To maintain consistency with the sources of my data and to ensure greater objectivity in selection, I consider the definition provided in the United States Penal Code, Section 2656 (d): ‘‘Terrorism is the use of premeditated, politically motivated violence against noncombatant targets by sub-national or clandestine agents, usually intended to influence an audience.’’ I diverge from Brathwaite’s use of this definition in one way. To avoid incorporating civil war participants into the analysis and differentiate terrorist

does not participate in elections. From these three characterizations, I argue that the participation of terrorist group takes three possible forms: participation, continuation of terrorism without participation, and defeat of the terrorist group. Hypotheses on the Participation of Terrorists My first hypothesis concerns the geographic orientation of a terrorist group: specifically, whether or not the terrorist group is seeking election in the same state as the government or organization the terrorist group is attempting to elicit a political change in. I differentiate terrorist groups by their orientation as internal or external. Internally oriented groups carry out terrorist attacks, and desire to change policies, in the same state in which they reside. Externally oriented groups carry out terrorist attacks, and seek policy change, in a different state than the one in which they reside and would hypothetically participate in elections. Two factors, one top-down and the other bottom-up, constrain the participation

“Why do some terrorist groups participate in elections, while others do not?” groups from rebel groups, I define terrorist groups as organization engaging in terrorism (as defined above) and not controlling territory in a manner that infringes on sovereignty. While my hypotheses may apply to these types of groups, for the purpose of preserving the homogeneity of my units, and therefore the validity of my findings, I exclude these groups. Dependent Variable: Political Participation I define participation as simply whether a terrorist group participates in competitive elections, either directly, through a political wing, or indirectly, through an affiliated political party. This characterization does not require the group to have ceased its violent or terrorist activities. I define a terrorist defeat as the situation where: a) the state eliminates the group by military action; or b) police and intelligences agencies capture or kill key members of the group, rendering the group inoperative. Finally, I define non-participation as when a terrorist group still engages in terrorist activity but

in national elections by terrorist groups engaging in terrorist activity in an area that it targets (i.e. where it attacks). Elites banning a terrorist political party constitutes a top-down constraint on terrorist electoral participation. Intuitively, I argue that a government engaging in counterterrorism operations against a terrorist group will prevent that group from participating in elections more often than a government cohabitating with a terrorist group that attacks an external target. The bottom-up constraint on participation derives its salience from the psychological effect of terrorism on non-elite populations. Though terrorist groups attempt to use this psychological effect to change policy or the political system, the perceived “purposelessness” (Douglass and Zulaika 1990, 256) and indiscriminate nature of terrorist violence reduce the potential electoral constituency of the group. I argue that rational terrorist groups will have a lower probability of participating if their actions alienate their constituency. These constraints do not, however, affect terrorist groups characterized



POLITICAL SCIENCE by external geographic orientation to the same degree, leading to: H1: Terrorist groups with an external geographic orientation are more likely to participate in elections than groups with an internal geographic orientation. My second hypothesis focuses on the interaction of state capacity and the strength of a terrorist group. Specifically, I argue that, in cases where the relative forces of a terrorist groups approach some measure of operational parity with those of the state, terrorist groups will participate in elections with a greater probability than in cases where there exists a major discrepancy between the two actors’ relative forces. I characterize this situation as when a terrorist group is unable to achieve its political goals through violence alone and the state is unable to defeat the terrorist group through force alone. Building on Clausewitz’s famous adage, many authors (e.g. Smith 2007; Quiggin October 13, 2010) have asserted that terrorism is a mere continuation of policy by other means. I assume groups adopt the tactics and organization they see as most conducive to achieving their goals. Following this, terrorist groups do not engage in violence for the sake of it; rather, they engage in violence because the members believe it will be more effective than political participation. If a terrorist group believes it can gain in its political struggle by participating, it will pursue this strategy. The mechanism driving the government acceptance follows a similar logic. When the balance of relative forces is such that the terrorist group can attack frequently,

government elites cannot suppress the terrorist group only through counterterrorism. In these cases, elites make concessions to moderates within the terrorist group and allow these groups to participate in elections. The government then allows terrorist political participation to enable terrorist supporters to seek redress for their grievances nonviolently and to induce moderate, former terrorists to assist in counterterrorism efforts (Bueno de Mesquita 2005). When a government possesses the relative forces to suppress the terrorist group through counterterrorism measures alone, it has no incentive to sharepower by allowing terrorist participation in elections: H2: A terrorist group that maintains relatively equal balance of forces to the state it operates in will participate in elections with a greater likelihood than a terrorist group exhibiting significantly stronger or significantly weaker relative forces. The greater the parity of the state and the terrorist group, the closer the different, arbitrary units of state and terrorist group capability and therefore the higher the probability of electoral participation. Finally, I postulate that a high degree of fragmentation in the electoral system positively affects the probability a terrorist group will participate: put simply, the more parties, the more likely the terrorist group will participate. This hypothesis follows two causal mechanisms. The more fragmented the political system, the greater chance of success because elections are not dominated by one or two established parties In a system

“In a system with many parties, small, fringe parties can represent these extreme policies and single issues in a more legitimate sphere of political action, forcing terrorist groups to participate in elections to maintain their role as the representatives of this constituency.” 48


with many parties, small, fringe parties can represent these extreme policies and single issues in a more legitimate sphere of political action, forcing terrorist groups to participate in elections to maintain their role as the representatives of this constituency. The more parties in the system, the more likely parties will co-opt the terrorist group’s constituency and lessen the group’s legitimacy. This leads to the third and final hypothesis: H3: The more political parties compete in a state, the more likely a terrorist group will participate in elections. Empirical Results The results of these models (located in tables 1 and 2) suggest that geographic orientation does not affect the probability of terrorist electoral participation. The null hypotheses with respect to hypothesis 1, that geographic orientation has no effect on participation, and hypothesis 3, that the political fragmentation has no effect on participation, cannot be refuted. However, I find GDP per capita and GDP per capita squared have significant effects on electoral participation. The probability of terrorist electoral participation increased with GDP per capita, but at a decreasing rate (as the squared term was negative). From this, I reject the null hypothesis in favor of hypothesis 2, that relative parity between terrorist groups and the state positively affects the probability of participation. Figure 3 supports hypothesis 2 by illustrating that the marginal effect of state capacity decreases as state capacity increases. As a state’s GDP per capita increases from 0 to 10,000 USD, the probability of a terrorist group participating increases by 13%. Similarly, increasing GDP per capita from 10,000 to 20,000 USD corresponds to a 27% increase in the probability of participation. However, as a state’s GDP increases from 30,000 to 40,000 USD, the probability of electoral participation actually decreases by 6%. Additionally, the dotted lines on either side of the solid marginal effects line, which represent the 95% confidence interval, reveal that GDP per capita is significant at the extremes from 0-20,000 and 40,000-50,000 USD. These findings are consistent with my hypothesis that relative parity is positively correlated with electoral participation and that state capability (here represented as GDP per capita) has a nonlinear relationship with the probability of electoral participation. Even though GDP per capita is not significant across all values, its shift from a positive effect to a possible no-effect to a negative effect is consistent with hypothesis 2. As state capacity


Table 1. Effects of structural factors on terrorist electoral participation, 1966-2013.

reaches a point of relative parity with that of the terrorist group, the absolute value of the marginal effect decreases, illustrating a certain level or range of GDP per capita

corresponds with a maximum probability of terrorist electoral participation. However, when I test the relationship of state capability to the probability to electoral

Figure 3. Conditional marginal effect of state capacity on electoral participation.

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participation with a different proxy, rule of law, I cannot refute the null hypothesis. This may be due to the nature of the rule of law variable; a state’s score on the 0-7 rule of law scale is, in part, decided based on a subjective assessment of said state’s legal institutions and popular observance of the law within the state as separate categories out of 3 points. The assessment of rule of law in this manner means states with the same rule of law score may actually have dramatically different popular observance of laws and legal system efficacy. The variation within values of equal scores may affect the analysis. Conclusion Previous research has posited a variety of conditions under which terrorist groups participate in elections. This study moves beyond much of the existing literature to systematically test predictors of electoral participation over time, a distinction which expands the depth of the current scholarship on terrorism. I have argued that the geographic orientation of a terrorist group, the relative forces of a terrorist group and its target state, and political fragmentation all predict the likelihood a terrorist group will participate in elections. Of these three hypotheses, I have found that relative parity




Table 2. Effects of structural factors on terrorist electoral participation, 1966-2013 (cont.) between the forces of a terrorist group and the state correlates positively to the probability of terrorist electoral participation. While technically I did not find a relationship between political fragmentation and terrorist electoral participation, this non-result begets a telling implication: macro-level analyses of the role of electoral systems and their role in legitimacy threats to terrorist groups may prove fruitless. I argue these findings limit the generalizability of this micro-level analysis via the testing of structural factors. These empirical findings provide many

interesting implications for the policy-making communities. The findings also indicate that policy-makers and counterterrorism officials should tailor their policing and conciliation efforts to the relative strengths of states and terrorist groups. Furthermore international actors and organizations attempting to end conflicts in foreign countries should compare the specific contexts and relative forces of the terrorist groups and states involved to determine whether they should support conciliation measures, expanded policing, or a combination of the two. While this research provides no specific policy

“Terrorist groups do not engage in violence for the sake of it; rather, they engage in violence because the members believe it will be more effective than political participation.” 50


prescriptions or tactics, it supports the notion that policymakers should approach every terrorist conflict as a unique occurrence with structural similarities. Understanding the role of structural factors in terrorism will afford policy-makers with more knowledge of when to attempt conciliation with terrorist groups and when to increase repressive measures, ultimately lessening the length of terrorist conflicts. Bibliography

Bueno de Mesquito, Ethan. “Conciliation, Counterterrorism, and Patterns of Terrorist Violence.” International Organization 59 (2005): 145-176. Douglass, William A. and Joseba Zulaika. “On the Interpretation of Terrorist Violence: ETA and the Basque Political Process.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32, (1990): 238-257. English, Robert. Armed Struggle: The History of the IRA. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Eyerman, Joseph. “Terrorism and Democratic States: Soft Targets or Accessible Systems.” International Interactions 24 (1998): 151-170. Quiggin, Tom. “Terrorism as Politics by Other Means.” Global Brief. October 13, 2010. Accessed on November 11, 2013. http://globalbrief.ca/ blog/2010/10/13/terrorism-as-politics-by-othermeans/. Ross, Jeffery I. “Structural Causes of Oppositional Political Terrorism: Towards a Causal



How did you discover the intersection between sociology and biomedicine? It happened when I was a doctoral student at UC Berkeley. I had some previous exposure to medical sociology as an undergraduate – I took a class in that area. I graduated school at exactly the same time as the AIDS epidemic emerged as a major disaster around the world and the country, but very much so in the Bay Area – San Francisco, of course, was an epicenter in those early years. I felt that it was very important for sociologists to think about the implications of a medical emergency using all of the insight that sociologists could bring to bear. In order to do that, though, I thought it was important for sociologist to grapple with the details of the biomedical work being done. That really brought me to take an interest in the sociology of science, a field that I hadn’t really thought about much until then, but it was a discipline where there was a lot of emphasis placed on actually understanding the science that was at stake in the midst of social controversies. That really put me on track to develop a research career in which I focused on the intersection of social and political processes with biomedical ones. How did you become invested in the AIDS activism movement? I was living in San Francisco and going to school in Berkeley at the time of this raging epidemic made me feel that if sociology was VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

Professor Epstein is John C. Shaffer Professor in the Humanities and Professor of Sociology at Northwestern University. He has conducted extensive research on the sociology of biomedicine, health, illness, especially regarding the connections between gender, sexuality, and race and the politics of science. His area of interest includes the politics of the HIV/AIDS epidemic and the sociology of sexuality and LGBT/queer studies, among many other critical societal issues. Professor Epstein has long been recognized for his contribution in his field, receiving the John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship, a residency fellowship at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences, and highly distinguished prizes for his books, such as the Ludwik Fleck Book Prize and C. Wright Mills Book Award. All the while, he has also been continually writing publications that provide insights into the workings of social politics within the realm of science. Below is his interview with NURJ that sheds light into his career as a sociology and humanities researcher.

worth something as a field, it should have something important to say about what was going on right at that time. I was also interested in the theoretical questions that had to do with the politics of knowledge and expertise. When I saw activists who seemed phenomenally selfeducated about the aspects of the disease and particularly the research concerning treatments – I was very impressed. Where did they learn all this science and how did they know what they were talking about? I was fascinated by that particular activism because it was different from other kinds of activism related to science and technology. Here the activists were actually seeking to democratize science itself – how could that be? Given how grim a time it was back then, and given my interest in writing a dissertation that had to do with the epidemic, I didn’t mind the fact that I found my way to an example that, at least in some respects, was more hopeful. Did you feel very invested in the movement personally? What about social movements interests you? Yes and no. I did have a bit of an activist background in my time living in the Bay Area; I was involved in a few activists group around other issues mostly about peace, social justice, disarmament, antinuclear movements. I had a certain kind of activist sensibility, but I think that I quickly realized that I was not interested in writing a book that was simply cheerleading

on behalf of an activism. That was not going to do anybody any good. If I was going to be useful, it was going to be by bringing my sociological expertise to bear in a way that would position me as having somewhat of a more independent position. I wasn’t entirely an outsider – I knew people who were AIDS activists and I went to demonstrations myself – but I was never fully an insider either. I wasn’t trying to study myself. I always wanted to maintain a certain amount of distance so that I could have different kinds of insights on the processes that I was describing. Have you ever been an active member or leader of a social movement? Although I have been involved in various activists group, I never tried to be a leader. Although I remained sympathetic to the activists, going to graduate school taught me that the questions that I was interested in pursuing were the ones that activism didn’t lend itself to. Activism encourages a pragmatic approach to knowledge – sometimes you need to take the positions that advance your arguments. I was somewhat uncomfortable with that – I wanted more of the freedom to pursue some intellectual questions, apart from the pressures that come from having to make immediate use of knowledge to advance a particular political position. In some sense, I didn’t feel that I was suited to be a leader of an activist movement. I felt that my contribution could come in a different way. In the book,



FEATURE Impure Science, I make a point in talking about the unintended consequences resulting from the activist engagement with science on the activism itself. For example, I describe how the engagement between HIV treatment activists and government health officials sometimes reinforced or accentuated the divides within various factions in the activist movement, especially between those who had access to more specialized knowledge and those who did not. I was making arguments that were sympathetic but also critical of the activists. I think that in order to be in a position to think those things through in a serious way, I had to be somewhat separate from being an activist myself. I wouldn’t try to lead one myself. Where do you see yourself in the future? Would you still like to be a professor and continue your research? I love what I do, and I love the opportunities that come to me from being a professor, the freedom to work on a wide range of topics, the opportunity to teach undergraduates and to train graduate students, the opportunities for travel that come with giving talks and going to conferences around the world. I love the different kinds of people and ideas that I’m routinely exposed to. All of this is invigorating and keeps me thinking and it hasn’t gotten old yet. I can see myself continuing to do that work for quite sometime. I am sure that the particular topics that I work on will change and sometimes the balance of activities shifts. In recent years I’ve done more administrative work, running the Science in Human Culture Program in past years, running the Sexualities Project at Northwestern (SPAN). I think as new opportunities arise, sometimes people shift the balance of what they are involved in, but these are things that I like and I’m happy doing. How did you discover your passion for the sociology of sexuality and LGBTQ studies? In some ways this is a personal story. At the time that I was in graduate school in the late 1980s, there was very little work being done in the sociology of sexuality. As a gay person, I

“I felt that it was important to put the sociology of sexuality on the map.” 52

noticed that and felt like that was a real absence. Sociology seemed to have declared that a discipline that purported to study society and social beings didn’t really have to pay attention to something, sexuality, that most people would say is a pretty consequential aspect of their everyday lives and how society works. And that seemed to me just plain wrong and just plain crazy. If sexuality is such a fundamental aspect of what is on people’s minds and how the whole society is structured, then sexuality is something sociologists should take very seriously. I felt that it was important to put the sociology of sexuality on the map. I definitely had an interest in promoting more research on LGBT issues. I have always been involved in activism on would just originally have been called gay and lesbian issues but what we now call LGBTQ. I have tried to bring attention to these issues in professional contexts as well. For example, the American Sociological Association has a Committee on the Status of LGBT People in Sociology, and I have served on that committee. I have also tried to take professional roles in ways that support LGBT rights within my field but also encourage scholars in my field to study issues related to LGBT people and sexuality in a more general context. Not only should there be people studying the sociology of sexuality, but there should also be people studying sexuality within other subfields – sociology of the state, economic sociology, sociology of political movements, sociology of the family: they should also be thinking about the sociology of sexuality because sexuality has implications in all those other social institutions. How difficult is it to gain access to information on pharmaceutical companies? I found it quite difficult to get inside knowledge from the pharmaceutical industry. They tend to be very protective of their scientists. I have found it easier to interview prominent government officials than it is to interview pharmaceutical company scientists. The reason, I suppose, is that government officials recognize that they have a duty to be responsive to citizenry. Pharmaceutical companies have legal offices, which intervene. Several times, I’ve tried to interview pharmaceutical researchers about their work and they’re perfectly willing but they’ll say, “I have to run it by legal.” The answer I get back is that they prefer not. The lawyers tend to be riskaverse and they can’t see any particular benefit of having their employees talk to me, and they can only see potential risks. Unfortunately, I think they tend to classify researchers in the same category as journalists. Rather than recognizing the importance of our research, they see us more as pesky people trying to stir up problems. Sometimes I have had pharmaceutical scientists


speak to me off the record and sometimes on the record. Sometimes, they just have not been allowed to talk to me by their companies. I think that is unfortunate because these are scientists who do interesting work, and it would be useful to know more about what they do and how they envision it. Of course, I am able to interview them after they have left their company, and sometimes they do speak in public venues or publish articles. It is an area of research that is a bit tricky for sociologists to undertake. How do you get in contact with NIH associates, doctors and patients? Every group that I interview, I interview them somewhat differently. The book Inclusion was not really a study of the patient’s perspectives. I interviewed representatives of patient advocacy groups who represent patients with particular diseases or patients of particular social categories. I also interviewed lawyers who sued on behalf of women who wanted access to clinical trials. I interviewed researchers conducting clinical trials on certain populations who were interested in studying the inclusion of women, racial minorities, and children in clinical trials. I interviewed people at the NIH, the CDC, various other places and usually I simply contacted them by email or phone and I explained to them what I was up to and asked if they could give me a little bit of their time. I am always impressed by their general willingness to do that and their kindness in making time for me. Very few people say no, or at least I’ve been lucky. When you gain the inspiration to write a book, where do you begin and what’s the general process? I love writing books because they provide you with a certain kind of freedom to expand on and develop ideas that are not afforded by journal articles as well as the ability to reach out a bit and talk to a more diverse audience. Writing a book is also hard and it takes a long time. It is an arduous process and for me, writing, which is the fun part, is what comes at the very end after gathering the data and figuring out what in the world it means. For me, writing a book has multiple stages and a lot of it involves a constant review of the data, figuring out what it seems to be telling me, connecting that to the existing literature, going back and reading more of the literature, going back and doing more thinking. All of that takes me a very inordinate amount of time. Once I have an outline of what I want to say I’m actually a pretty fast writer and I enjoy the craft of writing and the challenge of putting the words down on paper (or the screen, really) in a way that people will find clear, compelling and interesting. And then you rewrite!


Characterizing the Hippocampal Dentate Gyrus During Recent and Remote Trace Eyeblink Conditioning Lillian Chen BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES




n order to develop effective treatments for amnesia associated with dementia and Alzheimer’s disease, the neural mechanisms underlying long term memory storage need to be better understood. The hippocampus is a brain region that has been widely studied for its role in memory processes given that it is often the area of the brain that is damaged in the amnesic condition. Currently, the role of the hippocampus during the consolidation of declarative memories is highly contested. One view is that the hippocampus plays a time-limited role in memory consolidation; it is primarily active during initial stages of memory acquisition, but these memories later become independent of the hippocampus as they are transferred to areas of the neocortex for long-term storage. In contrast, other theories contend that the hippocampus plays an active role in both memory acquisition and remote recall. Most of the evidence supporting these contested theories has been based on lesion studies that do not provide insight into the normal physiological activity of the intact brain. Further, these theories view the functional role of the hippocampus as one homogenous structure, while in reality, multiple subregions and independent signaling pathways exist in the hippocampus. Thus, how the activity of neurons within distinct subregions of the hippocampus changes over successive stages of memory remains unclear. This study used a trace eyeblink conditioning associative learning paradigm to characterize single neuron and local field potential activity of neurons within the dentate gyrus subregion of the hippocampus during both acquisition and remote recall of a consolidated memory. Results suggest that dentate gyrus activation is most prominent during periods of memory acquisition as opposed to remote memory recall. These findings are compared with other literature in the field to discuss a more holistic view of the hippocampus during memory acquisition and retrieval.

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BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES Introduction and Literature Survey Types of Memory While memory is often thought of merely as the recall of an experience or process, it actually is the amalgamation of several entities (Squire 2004). Memory encompasses the processes by which information is encoded, consolidated, and later retrieved. The process of encoding involves the acquisition of sensory information from the external world and conversion of those signals into a form that can be handled by the brain. Memory consolidation is the process by which acquired memories are then stabilized as long-term memory traces so that they can be later retrieved. Memories are divided into two general categories: nondeclarative and declarative. Nondeclaractive memories are memories that can be recalled without conscious awareness. A prime example of nondeclarative memory is procedural memory, for example the muscle memory for knowing how to ride a bike. In contrast, declarative memories refer to memories that can be consciously recalled, such as episodes of experiences and facts (Eichenbaum 1997, Squire 2004). Declarative memories are further classified as either episodic memories, which entail the recall of events or specific experiences (e.g. what, when, where), or semantic memories, which is the recall of general facts and knowledge (Eichenbaum 1997). Many studies have examined the mechanisms underlying systems level memory consolidation, which involves the gradual stabilization of neural signals within distinct brain regions as new memories are consolidated into long term ones, and have found that the medial temporal lobe and cortical brain regions are involved in the formation, storage, and recall of declarative memories (Eichenbaum 1997, Frankland and Bontempi 2005). However, how exactly these regions work together and the sequence in which they are activated remain to be fully understood. Standard Consolidation Theory One prominent theory of memory acquisition and retention is the standard consolidation theory (SCT) which contends that different regions of the brain are preferentially active at certain stages of memory acquisition and consolidation (Frankland and Bontempi 2005). According to SCT, memory acquisition initially depends on networks in the medial temporal lobe, such as the hippocampus. However, hippocampal networks serve only as a temporary store for new information. As new memories are reorganized and consolidated into long term ones, hippocampal activation leads to changes in synaptic activity that distribute memories to areas within the neocortex, such as the medial prefrontal cortex. Eventually, the retrieval of stored


memories becomes a process dependent only on neocortical networks and independent of hippocampal networks (Frankland and Bontempi 2005, Winocur et al. 2010). Multiple Trace Theory Alternate theories of memory consolidation have emerged in which the hippocampus is posited to not have a time limited role, but rather is activated during both memory acquisition and consolidation. Multiple trace theory (MTT) is one model that argues for the continued role of the hippocampus during the retrieval of episodic memory details (McKenzie and Eichenbaum 2011, Moscovitch and Nadel 1998). MTT proposes that episodic memories are initially stored in hippocampal traces. Reactivations of these memories lead to the development of multiple traces that extend to cortical areas. However, these neocortical traces primarily contain semantic memory content. Thus, the recall of remote memories rich in episodic detail continues to remain dependent on the hippocampus, a phenomena discordant with the tenets of SCT (McKenzie and Eichenbaum 2011, Winocur et al. 2010). Evidence for Standard Consolidation Theory and Trace Eyeblink Conditioning Animal models using lesion studies and pharmacological manipulations as well as human case studies have provided support for SCT. In the notable case of human patient H.M., bilateral removal of his hippocampus in an effort to treat epilepsy led to symptoms of anterograde and temporally graded retrograde amnesia, which are the inabilities to form new memories and to recall remotely acquired, but not recently acquired memories (Frankland and Bontempi 2005). This is consistent with the idea that hippocampal networks serve as temporary stores of information during acquisition of new memories, but have limited roles in memory retrieval. Observations from trace eyeblink conditioning (EBC) studies have also supported SCT. Trace EBC is an associative learning paradigm which consists of noncontiguous paired presentations of a conditioned stimulus (CS), such as an auditory tone or whisker vibration, with an unconditioned stimulus (US), such as an eyeblink inducing corneal airpuff. After repeated CS-US presentations, subjects learn that the CS precedes the US and will eventually elicit a conditioned response (CR), for example a learned blink of the eye, in response to the CS alone (Kronforst-Collins and Disterhoft 1998). Kim et al. (1995) and Takehara et al. (2003) showed that animals with hippocampal lesions were impaired from acquiring a trace EBC paradigm, but remote retention of the paradigm was not significantly impaired.


Further, lesions in the medial prefrontal cortex disrupted retention, but not acquisition of the paradigm, observations consistent with SCT (Takehara et al. 2003). However, most of the current evidence for theories of memory acquisition and consolidation has originated from lesion studies, which are unable to describe the normal physiological activity occurring inside an intact brain. No study to date has examined in vivo hippocampal activity during both acquisition and remote retrieval of memory. Moreover, it remains unclear whether individual regions of the hippocampal formation, including the dentate gyrus (DG), CA1, and CA3 are uniformly or differentially active during memory acquisition and consolidation. Anatomy of the Hippocampus Anatomical connections within the hippocampus are arranged such that signals are transferred to the DG region of the hippocampus from the entorhinal cortex via the perforant pathway, positioning the DG as an input station into the hippocampus. From the DG, signals are then transferred to the CA3 via mossy fibers and subsequently to the CA1 via Schaffer collaterals, composing the trisynaptic, or perforant, pathway (Neves et al. 2008). From there, the CA1 acts as the output of the hippocampus and projects to widespread areas of the brain, including the neocortex, to mediate memory processes. However, anatomical tracings have shown that direct connections also exist from the entorhinal cortex to the CA1 and the entorhinal cortex to the CA3. Thus, it remains unknown whether signals for memory acquisition and memory consolidation are transferred exclusively through the trisynaptic pathway or if signals are transferred through other direct connections as well. Recently, our laboratory has undertaken efforts to record from the CA1 region of the hippocampus during trace EBC to determine how neural activity changes across acquisition and remote retrieval of memory (Hattori et al. 2013). However, activity within the DG during trace EBC has never before been recorded. Therefore, using a trace EBC paradigm, this study sought to record and analyze the neuronal activity of the DG at the single-neuron and local field potential levels during stages of memory acquisition and consolidation and to examine whether this activity aligns with SCT or with alternate theories of memory consolidation, such as MTT.

To read the Lillian To read LillianChen’s Chen’sfull fullthesis, thesis, visit NURJ Online: visit NURJ Online: www.thenurj.com www.thenurj.com


“Halka” Transfigurations of Polish Romantic Nationalism Paulina Mateja





y thesis chronicles the strange career of Stanisław Moniuszko’s opera “Halka,” documenting the transfigurations of Polish romantic nationalism through the Halka narrative as it adapted and responded to political and social aspects of life in Poland and the U.S. Midwest. While “Halka” has long been regarded as the most important operatic expression of Polish nationalism, my thesis is the first to explore the transformations of this national configuration in the Polish-American community, by recovering the lost story of Halka’s U.S. performances. In the following essay, condensed from my thesis, I briefly follow the narrative of Halka through its development in mid-nineteenth century Poland—where Wolski’s narrative poem and Moniuszko’s opera made it a premier vehicle for romantic nationalism. I then showcase my archival research on its adaptations by the Polish émigré community of Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the 1920s. VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

Romantic Nationalism in Mid-19th Century Poland The particular configurations of romantic nationalism in Polish narratives were under distinct pressure from the imperial censors of the Russian, Prussian, and Austrian partitioning powers. Composer Stanisław Moniuszko (18191872) and poet Włodzimierz Wolski (1824-1882) expressed Polish romantic nationalism through the story of Halka in Moniuszko’s opera “Halka” (1847) and in Wolski’s narrative poem Halka (1846) on which the opera is based. Emerging in the second half of Polish romanticism and based on the 1846 Peasant Rebellion, Wolski’s poem focuses on the poisonous tension between the peasants and landowning nobles. In the opera Moniuszko’s compositional choices, paired with Wolski’s libretto, emphasize a national identity rooted in folk traditions while maintaining the element of social tension. The secret to the success of Moniuszko’s opera lies in the emphasis on the Polish highlander culture, drawing on its deeply rooted traditions and absence of immediate political relevance, to help



COMPARATIVE LITERATURE the opera pass censorship and gain popularity as “the Polish national opera” (Krawczykowski 26). The structure of class and regional categorization of Poles in the variants of Halka is focused on the class distinction between the szlachta (nobility or gentry) and the lud (non-nobles). These ‘non-nobles’ were in turn comprised of several groups. The stories of Halka refer to the chłopy (peasant-serfs) or górale (Polish highlanders). The chłopy had no access to education and worked as laborers on the szlachta’s estates. The szlachta had access to education, notably education abroad, and had the option of living largely undisturbed by the partitioning governments as long as they were interested in living in accordance with the government’s ideals. The górale were Polish highlanders who—then and now— largely focused on maintaining strong traditions revolving around religion, garb, dance, and song. The górale lived in the mountainous region of Poland which was occupied by Austria at the time. Removed from the noble and peasant populations, they were not especially politically problematic. However, like all non-nobles, they fell under the category of lud. Włodzimierz Wolski lived most of his life in the city of Warsaw, where the Russian Tsar had ultimate control and all uprisings were thwarted. The most prominent of these was the November Rising in 1831; “the defeat of the Rising caused the greatest single outburst of national feeling, and of literary activity in the nation’s history… well matched to the talents of the Romantic generation.” (Davies 327) Enter the poetic aspirations of Włodzimierz Wolski. Though known today primarily for his contribution to “Halka” as the librettist, prior to the opera Wolski had also been an avid poet and was relatively well-known in Warsaw in the 1840s when Moniuszko approached him. Wolski’s narrative poem Halka was based on the Peasant Uprising of 1846 when Austrian officers promised the peasants an end to their feudal obligations and encouraged them to turn on their masters (Davies 148). Meanwhile, Stanisław Moniuszko had just moved to Wilno, a city that had been part of the Russian partition since 1795. There, he was part of the emerging group of intellectuals who had a new and different understanding of social relations, even though they were from the landed class. During his studies in Berlin in the late 1830s, Moniuszko became interested in German folk opera and came to believe that music would help in the improvement of society (Prosnak 42). Formulations of Polish Romantic Nationalism Through the Story of Halka The origins of romantic nationalism took place in Germany with the emergence of a new concept of das Volk (the folk), using


the peasant as a “symbol for the human race itself, differentiated by language into nations” (Taruskin). Romantic nationalists idealized peasant culture and searched for cultural and historical origins of the nation in the peasantry. In the Polish context, romantic nationalism celebrated folk traditions and asserted that the origins of the Polish nation belonged to the lud. In their narratives of Halka, Wolski and Moniuszko formulate Polish romantic nationalism in ways that, despite their similarities, can be distinguished based on social and historical context, intended effect, and artistic medium. Wolski’s narrative poem Halka tells the story of two mothers who seek revenge against the injustices created by class distinctions. While her son (later called Janusz in the opera) is away at war, the szlachcica (noblewoman) mother uses his absence as an opportunity to get rid of his peasant fiancée Halka despite her pregnancy with his child. The szlachcica’s public humiliation of the peasant girl leads Halka to drown herself. Halka’s mother visits her daughter’s grave and wants to seek revenge, turning first to God and then to the devil, all against the wishes of Halka’s spirit. Upon the young nobleman’s return from war, Halka’s mother appears in his dream and tells him that his future wife and child are dead. She encourages the nobleman to kill his mother and then Halka’s mother rips the noblewoman’s heart out, bringing it to Halka’s grave as a sacrifice. This angers Halka’s spirit and she and her mother curse each other, though Halka ultimately forgives her. Wolski’s Halka was born out of the legacy of romanticism from the mid-19th century Polish poetry established by the exiled poet Adam Mickiewicz. The romantic model often stressed non-rational and supernatural elements, rejecting Enlightenment discourses through the celebration of folk culture. Wolski was a “domestic” romantic, mixing Mickiewicz’s romantic supernaturalism with an emphasis on the class distinctions in Polish society. In her introduction to Utwory Wybrane , Krystyna Leśniewska mentions that Wolski’s Halka was “mercilessly cut apart by the censorship” (Leśniewska 22). The officials who were approved by the Russian Tsar most likely performed the censoring in Warsaw during the time when Warsaw was part of the Russiancontrolled Congress Kingdom of Poland. Although Wolski’s poem as presented in Utwory Wybrane is the censored version, it is full of romantic mysticism and represents a conscious effort to depict class conflict and the reality of an internally divided Poland. For example, Wolski’s portrait of Halka’s mother in Urywek I (Fragment I) shows how Wolski built on romanticism to create his version of romantically-fueled social commentary. He


pairs romantic descriptions of nature with the hellish, wolf-like gaze of Halka’s mother before she carries out her plan of revenge against the szlachcica. “Like a she-wolf when they kill her cubs” is repeated multiple times in the poem. By attributing animalistic qualities to the peasant character, the phrase reinforces the romantic nationalist view of the origins of the nation in the peasant. Despite the frequently mystical aspects of Wolski's romanticism, he also uses the character of the mother to voice the anger the peasants feel toward landowning nobles. Indeed, Wolski’s Halka is a story of a mother’s revenge but uses the plural form “pani… diablice… matki” (ladies…she-devils… mothers) to point directly to the noblewomen as those with pleasant demeanors but “dead black hearts.” Halka’s mother promises to carry out revenge against the szlachcica and ultimately brings the szlachcica’s heart to Halka’s grave. Wolski’s message however, is not a call for aggressive action. Upon finding out what her mother has done, Halka’s spirit tells her mother to “go away” (144) and Halka’s mother responds by cursing Halka’s grave. An angel figure holding a child appears and calls out, “Matko, przebaczenia!” (“Mother, forgiveness!”) (146). Though it is unclear who the spiritangel is, the call for a mother’s forgiveness symbolically yokes Halka’s forgiveness, Halka’s call for her mother to forgive, Halka’s mother’s forgiveness of the szlachcica, and perhaps even a call for Poland as “the motherland” to forgive its internal murderers. Through this ambiguity,

Figure 1. Sketch of Paulina Rivoli as Halka in the 1858 Warsaw premier, scanned from the program of a 1990 Warsaw production of the opera.

COMPARATIVE LITERATURE Wolski points to the internal chaos of Poland as the ultimate hindrance to a unified front against the partitioning powers. Halka’s spirit as the pacifier represents Wolski’s call for a Polish nation that, despite its struggles, can learn to turn away from violent internal reactions and band together against its true oppressors. Compositional Choices and Social Commentary in “Halka” the Opera After meeting Wolski during a visit to Warsaw in 1846, Moniuszko asked him to write the libretto to an operatic “Halka” based on his poem. By 1847, “Halka” was written as an opera in two acts, and its first performance took place in a private salon in Wilno on January 1, 1848 (Prosnak 88). In 1856, Moniuszko expanded the opera and added highlander dances, among other additions (Samson). The manuscript waited for several years in the office of the Warsaw theatres until 1857, “when the political atmosphere had somewhat relaxed and the opera’s theme became less objectionable to conservatives than it had been in the late forties” (Prosnak 91). Namely, the Tsar of Russia Nicholas I died in 1855 and Alexander II took his place. Although Russia strictly implemented its three principles of Orthodoxy, Autocracy, and Nationality, different tsars had emphasized different principles, ranging from the severity of Tsar Nicholas I to the liberality of Alexander II (Davies 84). The opera begins with Stolnik, a very wealthy nobleman, hosting an engagement party for his daughter Zofia who has just been engaged to Janusz, the owner of the neighboring estate. Upon hearing cries from outside, Janusz investigates and finds Halka, who is now pregnant with his child. They profess their love for one another and he makes a false promise to see her later. Jontek, Halka’s childhood sweetheart who is in love with her, tries to convince her to return home. After another confrontation with Janusz and other noblemen, Jontek finally takes Halka back to the village of highlanders. About a month later, the wedding procession comes through the village on their way to the church. Halka watches, feeling betrayed and hopeless, and thinks about setting fire to the church, but decides against it. She forgives Janusz before jumping off a cliff and drowning herself in the river. Jontek and other highlanders hear her crying out as she jumps to her death, and they rush out of the church, only to realize that she is already gone. On the surface, the libretto of “Halka” has several attributes that must have been used in order to make it appear less politically divisive than Wolski’s poem. The opera is amenable to a politically neutral view of nationalism based on folk tradition. While the poem focuses on the poisonous relationship between the peasants and landowning nobles, the libretto places its

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emphasis on the górale (Polish highlanders) and their endearing and respected folk traditions. In the opera, Halka clearly belongs to the górale community, of which there is no mention in Wolski’s poem. Moniuszko even adds the highlander dances to the third act, presumably to further the emphasis on folk traditions. The added character of Halka’s childhood sweetheart Jontek also serves to reinforce Halka’s bond to the highlanders. However, the element of realistic social conflict is not absent from “Halka.” Elsewhere, I show, through close textual analysis of the libretto and Moniuszko’s compositional choices, how Moniuszko used dynamics (i.e. the volume of a given musical passage) to slip significant forms of class commentary past the censors, drowning expressions of liberal individualism in choral episodes of social cohesion, commenting on the differences between lud (non-nobles) and szlachta (nobles), or signifying power relations within the ruling classes through choral vocal strategies. In their respective stories of Halka and in joining together to create “Halka” the opera, Stanisław Moniuszko and Włodzimierz Wolski evoke the ways in which Polish romantic nationalism expressed itself through shifting notions of social and class division. Wolski’s social commentary overrules any emphasis on Polish folk traditions, but he points to national origins in the peasant culture, stressing that an ideal Polish nation would need to put its poisonous internal aggression aside. Moniuszko’s “Halka” seems to take Wolski’s advice. The focus shifts from the chłopyszlachta tension and instead emphasizes strong folk traditions in the Polish highlander culture. “Halka” the opera even suggests subtly that the entirety of the szlachta may not be doomed to always despise all peasants. “Halka” and its Transatlantic Formulation in the American Midwest Nearly 70 years after its first performance

in Poland, “Halka” reappeared as a means to express the voice of the Polish national community across the Atlantic Ocean in the American Midwest. For purposes of length, available archival materials, and its status as the first unabridged performance of “Halka” in the United States, I will be focusing on the Milwaukee Polish Opera Club’s 1923 production. This part of my thesis will address why a working class Polish immigrant community in Milwaukee, Wisconsin would attempt to stage a complete production of this opera and why it was so successful, as indicated by its reception. I will proceed by explaining the significance of 1923 as a turning point in Polish history, the importance of góral culture, and the history of the Milwaukee Polish Opera Club—with a focus on the details of the “Halka” production and its reception. As far as I am aware, there is no secondary knowledge or discussion of this production and I am basing my analysis on my interpretation of evidence that I have gathered through archival research at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Department. Wolski’s call for a united Polish front against Russia, Prussia, and Austria was answered in 1918 when Poland broke from its partitioning powers and regained independence for the first time in over a century. Although Poland regained independence in 1918, it had to uphold that independence throughout six wars, culminating in 1921 with the Soviet War (Davies 394). Finally undisturbed, the Poland of 1923 was celebrating its independence and working to rebuild itself as a country. In Milwaukee’s Polish Fine Arts Club papers, an essay titled “Polish People: Their Customs, Habits, Religion, and Classes” stresses that the resilience of Polish people expressed through their traditions of folk dance and song along with religious faith “has made it possible for Poland to endure through all these centuries of struggle and persecution” (Polish). To these people, the góral traditions foregrounded in “Halka” were likely a showcase

Figure 2. Cast of May 13-17, 1923 Polish Opera Club production of “Halka” with Rose Saskowski in title role (seated extreme left); Anton Lukaszewski as Jontek (seated to the right of Saskowski).



COMPARATIVE LITERATURE of these resilient Polish traditions. In the 1880’s, the górale began to immigrate to the U.S. They tirelessly worked long hours in stockyards, mines, mills, and factories to earn as much money as possible, but made a point of finding the time to get together to sing góral songs, listen to góral music, and dance (Gromada 66). By the early 1900’s, góral social gatherings moved from tiny flats to local taverns, owned and operated by górale. Shortly after, the górale began importing their costumes from Poland and organizing formal highlander music and dance groups to perform publicly (Gromada 67). Regardless of their regional background, the working class Polish immigrants in Milwaukee likely shared a similar experience to that of the immigrant góral community. However, they chose to take the expression of Polish culture much further when they decided to stage a national Polish opera as opposed to a smaller scale evening of Polish song and dance. Their decision to stage “Halka” endorses it as an expression of Polish romantic nationalism and as a celebration of Polish culture through góral traditions. The Polish Opera Club of Milwaukee staged Moniuszko’s “Halka” in May of 1923 at the Pabst Theater (O Jednym). Hailed by local Polish and American critics and journalists alike, the May 1923 production led to an October performance in Chicago of the same year, a 1925 film, and eventually to another Chicago revival of “Halka” in 1949 in English translation. In 1920, church organist and choir director, John C. Landowski (1879-1961), created a “musical organization [that] would give Milwaukee Polish young people recreation, education, and solidarity” (Biographical sketch). He began assembling the Opera Club by traveling to various Polish church choirs, “picking out a voice here and there which, however rough, held essence worth training” (Pettibone). Landowski and the Opera Club were the first to produce “Halka” in the United States in its entirety without cutting or simplification (Milwaukee). With this idea in mind, the preparation for rehearsals turned out not to be an easy task, as the orchestral music sent from Warsaw had missing parts. In order to make usable orchestral scores, Landowski had to rewrite approximately 4,000 pages of music (Biographical sketch). The Opera Club’s costumes for the production were all handmade with the utmost attention to detail (Historia). According to a newspaper article anticipating the Chicago performance of “Halka,” “every cent taken in for tickets was used to pay expenses, which ran high, what with really good costumes and scenery and a paid orchestra” (Milwaukee). The Opera Club’s income was also used to pay for voice lessons for the leading singers” (Milwaukee).


Figure 3. Highlander village scene - May 1923 Milwaukee Polish Opera Club production of “Halka.” Shopgirl Turned Opera Singer The Polish Opera Club’s production of “Halka” would not have been possible without the dedication of its members. Both musical director John C. Landowski and stage director Anthony J. Lukaszewski (1882-1956) gave selflessly without pay. Notably, these were all amateur singers and actors with blue-collar jobs during the day and strenuous rehearsal schedules at night. An article by Harriet N. Pettibone from June 3, 1923 entitled “Butcher, Baker and Candlestick Maker Go In for Grand Opera as Side Line” highlights the lives of these working class people turned opera stars. Soprano Emilia Klebanski’s (who played Zofia) “coloratura soprano [was] employed eight hours every day saying ‘Fifteen cents a yard’ in a department store on Mitchell Street.” Eugene Stachowiak, who played Janusz, would close the windows of his truck so he could practice his part on the way from work to rehearsal, sometimes forgetting to wipe the smut off his face (Pettibone). The dedication of the working class people to this production confirms the status of “Halka,” an opera that emerged out of Polish romantic nationalism, as the best expression of Polish nationhood. Moniuszko’s emphasis on the uniting factor of cultural traditions worked even in this unexpected context of working class Polish immigrants in Milwaukee. Pettibone’s article also suggests an answer to “How is it accomplished?”—a question she posed to Landowski and Lukaszewski in the search for a reason behind the professional caliber of their amateur production. According to Pettibone, there is a “strong nationalistic feeling among Poles, an ambition to have the


name of their country stand high, which, in view of their musical tendencies, naturally takes this form of expression. So much is music a part of their nature that they are willing to undergo almost any sacrifice. It keeps them working at rehearsals for six or seven months a year” (O Jednym). The “History of the Polish Opera Club” section of the 1923 “Halka” program notes confirms the performers’ nationalistic motivations. The program notes pride the Polish Opera Club for being equipped enough to stage the “national opera of Poland” and celebrate the use of a professional orchestra and attention to detail necessary to perform “Halka” in the “way this eternal work of Moniuszko deserves. Nowhere else in the entire country is amateur theatre produced on such a large scale, as in our dairyland” (Historia). These ideas only represent a hint at why the amateur production was so successful. “Halka” was the Polish Opera Club’s first staging of a Polish opera, and it is no coincidence that Landowski decided to produce it at a time when Poland was reestablishing itself as a liberated country. The unwavering commitment of the amateur performers to produce “Halka” suggests that they viewed it as an expression of the enduring sense of Polish identity. Their desire to celebrate and uphold Polish traditions found a home in Moniuszko’s “Halka” and an outlet through the opera’s emphasis on góral culture. (Highlander village scene) This photograph of the 1923 Milwaukee Polish Opera Club production of “Halka” shows authentic góral costumes, from the men’s embroidered wool pants and capes to the women’s flowered skirts and coral bead necklaces

COMPARATIVE LITERATURE (Piskorz-Branekova 197-201). In addition to showing that góral culture is part of the larger Polish culture, the Opera Club’s production emphasizes the idea that Polish national identity originated in Polish folk culture. The Opera Club’s decision to produce “Halka” on such a grand scale shows that they were serious about the existence of Polish high culture and also implies that they wanted to bring their national identity to a larger stage than the local church or tavern. An operatic production, not to mention a shockingly successful one, would have the ability to reach past the local community, which it clearly did. Lukaszewski’s fascination with “Halka” was more than just a hobby; it was a “passionate patriotic fervor” (O Jednym). Lukaszewski ordered the amateur actors about “with the cut finality of a dictator…but there was no sign of that usual attitude of amateurs of doing the directors a favor by coming. Each member of the club seemed jealous of belonging to it and willingly adhered to the strictest discipline as if only too glad of the opportunity for serious development” (Pettibone). This goal of perfecting the production likely arose from the goal of making it artistically impressive so that it would reach as many people as possible. This was the Polish immigrant community’s opportunity to organize a far-reaching propagation of Polish culture. Their remarkable dedication, attention to detail in the costuming, and the decision to hire a professional orchestra on a tight budget show that they were serious about proving the existence of high art in Poland and that it could have an impact in the United States. Hats Off to Polish Milwaukee! Both Polish newspaper articles and reviews written by English speakers in non-Polish publications spoke very highly of the production that left critics in awe of the capabilities of the working class amateur performers and more broadly, of the Polish community in Milwaukee and the Midwest. A review by well-known music critic Herman Devries from the Chicago Evening American of the same production in Chicago praises the performers as giving “all they have of enthusiasm and talent to the interpretation—and their best is very good— more than that, excellent, legitimate song and legitimate theater—the work of zeal and time as well as ability.” Devries refers to the production as “an example for us Americans. Hats off to Polish Milwaukee!” The Chicago performance was sold out and additional seats had to be placed in the boxes (Devries). Pettibone’s article also stresses the success of the production, calling it a “grand opera that not only astonished the city’s musical critics but brought Polish leaders of the musical world from Chicago and elsewhere leaving with praise on their lips: ‘We

VOLUME 10, 2014-2015

want to thank Milwaukee for showing us what Poles in this country can do!” (Pettibone). A later 1927 article in a Polish publication continued to praise the Opera Club, stating that the Polish community of Milwaukee can be proud that they have such a group (Polski). The astonishment and enthusiasm in these reviews paired with the subsequent revivals of “Halka” in the Midwest is proof that the Polish Opera Club’s production of “Halka” was as successful as they hoped it would be. The decision to stage a “Polish national opera” by a late romantic composer is only a fraction of the importance of the opera to the Polish immigrant community. Milwaukee’s production of “Halka” followed Wolski’s advice to focus on internal unification and furthered Moniuszko’s emphasis on Polish folk tradition. Both Wolski’s poem and Moniuszko’s opera end tragically, reflecting a history of internal class conflict and its impending consequences. The Polish immigrants of Milwaukee took what had been a tragic opera during the time of partitioned Poland and turned it into a triumphant expression of Polish resilient identity at a turning point in Polish national history. Bibliography

Biographical Sketch. N.d. TS. John C. Landowski Papers, 1905-1961. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 1. Cast of May 13-17, 1923 Polish Opera Club Production of “Halka.” May 1923. Photograph. Anthony J. Lukaszewski Papers, 1923-1977. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Folder 1.Davies, Norman. God’s Playground A History of Poland: Volume II: 1795 to the Present. Oxford University Press, 2005. Print. Devries, Herman. “’Halka’ by Polish Opera is Sell-Out.” Chicago Evening American Oct. 1923: n. pag. Print. John C. Landowski Papers, 1905-1961. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 3. Gromada, Thaddeus. Tatra Highlander Folk Culture in Poland and America. Hasbrouck Heights: Tatra Eagle Press, 2012. Print.

Highlander village scene from May 1923 Milwaukee Polish Opera Club Production of “Halka”. May 1923. Photograph. Anthony J. Lukaszewski Papers, 1923-1977. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Folder 1. “Historia Polskiego Klubu Operowego” [“History of the Polish Opera Club”]. Program notes. Halka. Pabst Theater, Milwaukee. 13-17 May. 1923. John C. Landowski Papers, 1905-1961. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 6. Krawczykowski, Zbigniew. “,Halka’ W Opinii Cudoziemców.” Program notes. Halka. Teatr Wielki, Warszawa. 26 Oct. 1975. Leśniewska, Krystyna. “Przedmowa.” Utwory Wybrane. Ed. Tomasz Jodełka. Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1955. 5-45. Print. “Milwaukee Polish Opera Club Was First to Stage ‘Halka’ in Entirety”. n. title [n. city] Oct. 1923: n. pag. Print. John C. Landowski Papers, 1905-1961. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 3.Moniuszko, Stanisław. Halka Piano-Vocal Score English & Polish. Trans. Anthony J. Lukaszewksi. Gamble Hinged Music Co., 1949. Print. “O Jednym Takim, co Się Rozmiłował w ‘Halce’” [“About that Man, who Fell in Love with ‘Halka’”]. N. title [Milwaukee] Dec. 1950: n. pag. Print. Anthony J. Lukaszewski Papers, 1923-1977. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Folder 4. Pettibone, Harriet N. “Butcher, Baker and Candlestick Maker Go in for Grand Opera as Side Line.” Sentinel Sunday Magazine [Milwaukee] 3 June 1923: n. pag. Print. John C. Landowski Papers, 1905-1961. U of WisconsinMilwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 3.PiskorzBranekova Elżbieta. Polskie Stroje Ludowe. Warsaw: Sport i Turystyka, 2003. Print. “Polish People: Their Customs, Habits, Religion, and Classes.” N.d. TS. Polish Fine Arts Club Records, 19211949, 1978. U. of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 5.“Polski Klub Operowy Spotkał się z Wielkiem Poparciem” [“Polish Opera Club Met with Huge Support”]. Nowiny Polskie [Milwaukee] 6 May 1927: n. pag. Print. John C. Landowski Papers, 1905-1961. U of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Libraries’ Archives Dept. Box 1 Folder 3. Prosnak, Jan. Moniuszko. Cracow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1980. Print. Samson, Jim. “Halka.” Grove Music Online n. pag. Web. Taruskin, Richard. “Chapter 4: Nations, States, and Peoples.” The Oxford History of Western Music. Oxford University Press. New York, USA. n.d. Web. Wolski, Włodzimierz. “Halka.” Utwory Wybrane. Ed. Tomasz Jodełka. Warszawa: Czytelnik,1955. 131-147. Print.

Figure 4. The Sentinel Sunday Magazine, “Butcher, Baker and Candlestick Maker Go In for Grand Opera as Side Line” by Harriet Pettibone; Eugene Stachowiak, baritone also known as “Gene the tinsmith” with Zofia, sung by Emilie Klebanski.





YUJIA DING | SUBMITTED PHOTO How did you discover your interest in this field of research? As a transfer student, I knew that all I wanted to do was experience what it was like to work in a research lab. I knew that I definitely wanted to look into a lab studying mechanisms of transcription/translation and things related to those processes. However, I didn’t know what type of lab I wanted to join nor what techniques I would want to learn, but I kept an open mind and ended up in the research lab in Dr. Ishwar Radhakrishnan. He accepted a transfer student and took the risk that I may not have finished a project in my junior and senior years. What really interested me about the research is how they are studied at the molecular level of proteins, trying to determine how structure and function are closely linked. Since my freshmen year of high school, I have always been drawn to molecular and cell biology. The question that all my studies led back to was “how does structure affect function?” I began to answer that in the lab of Dr. Ishwar Radhakrishnan and look forward to continuing in graduate school. What is your most meaningful or memorable experience with research? One of the most meaningful moments in research was when I was told by my PI (research advisor/principle investigator) that I would be needed to help assist with circular dichroism (CD) and size exclusion chromatography coupled with multi-angle light scattering (SECMALS) experiments for the lab. Having only been a member for about a year, to be called on to help others in the lab with these particular techniques made me realize that he had seen

Yujia Ding (’14) is the recipient of the Irving M. Klotz Basic Prize in Research for her senior thesis (2014) and a Northwestern Undergraduate Research Grant (2013). She is currently an IBiS (Interdisciplinary Biological Sciences) Ph.D. student in Life and Biomedical Sciences at Northwestern University.

something in me that I didn’t, and that I could handle this responsibility. It helped give me some confidence and at times the push I needed to continue on with research even when the going got tough. Who are the most influential people you know from Northwestern? There are several individuals at Northwestern that definitely are critical in shaping me into the person I am today and who I will be. My PI is the one who drew out my passion for research. Another professor that has shown me her passion for undergraduate learning and research is Dr. Sadie Wignall. Even though she is a relatively new professor teaching a course for only the second time, she made cell biology accessible, conveying her passion and dedication for the work that she does. Finally, one of the most influential people I know at Northwestern is Mona Dugo, the Assistant Dean of Students. I met her in my senior year and have since learned so much about how to live life, how to persevere through struggles and challenges life throws you, and how to stay true to yourself. She sees in me somebody that is capable and strong, and has never given up on me even when I gave up on myself. What is your most memorable experience at Northwestern University? The moment that stands out the most to me is when I received a call from Mona, asking me to come see her because she was worried about my well being. It was the first time I could recall that an adult, somebody who barely knows me, took the time out of their busy schedule to

“There are so many aspects to research that you can’t experience in a classroom course.” 60


show concern for me as an individual. I wasn’t just another face at Northwestern. It was really eye-opening. It made me realize my own value and worth. What advice do you have for undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Go for it. It doesn’t hurt to try something that is out of your comfort zone. If you didn’t like a laboratory class and that is the only reason keeping you, don’t. It is amazing how different it is from class. There are so many aspects to research that you can’t experience in a classroom course, even if you are doing “research”. What you learn in class is the basic techniques, but you don’t have room for error, or at least if you make an error your grade depends on it. But in a lab, if you make a mistake, it might put your experiment back a day but you learn so much more through it. You see the words from a textbook come alive and how experiments come into play. Give it a shot, try one quarter. If it isn’t for you, at least you can say you gave it your all. Professors aren’t scary; they want the best for you and developing you as a student, scientist, and young adult. What is your most rewarding experience with research? When you reach the “ah ha” moment, when you realize all those late nights, frustrating experiments, negative results, have come together to give you clear, concise results. What does a typical day look like for you in your post-graduate career? A typical day, aside from attending classes, entails working in a research lab, running experiments, analyzing data, and reading the background literature. In addition, spaced throughout the week are seminars, journal clubs, and lab meetings that I attend, ranging in topics from cell biology to biophysics.



Paulina Mateja (’14) is a dual degree student for the Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences and the Bienen School of Music. She is the recipient of the Comparative Literary Studies Best Senior Thesis (2014) and a Northwestern Undergraduate Research Grant (2014). Originally from the Chicago suburb of Arlington Heights, Paulina is currently in the area working on law school applications and teaching guitar lessons.

How did you decide to write your senior thesis on “Halka”? I was first introduced to the opera “Halka” through a Musicology/ Comparative Literature class called “From Literature to Opera to Film” which was taught by Professor Linda Austern. I chose “Halka” as the subject of my final paper because I was excited to find a Polish opera that had made the multimedia journey. At that time, I had no idea about the Milwaukee production, which has resonated deeply with my Polish roots.

What was one of your most memorable experiences you had at Northwestern University? One of my favorite memories at Northwestern was going to a concert at Pick-Staiger called “The Big Squeeze,” a non-stop accordion extravaganza. Yes. It actually went way over its original 2-hour timeframe because the Zydeco band wouldn’t stop. No one complained because what is better than an accordion and a washboard?!

What was your most meaningful experience in research? The archives documenting the artistic endeavors of the PolishAmerican working class in Milwaukee were remarkable. Uncovering the dedication of working class amateur performers to stage a professional quality operatic production was the most surprising and rewarding part of my research. Their story continues to be an example of cultural pride and celebration.

What advice would you give to current undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Any Northwestern undergraduate with even the slightest interest in research should stop by the Office of Undergraduate Research, with or without a topic in mind. Undergraduate Research Grants are awarded throughout the year. Depending on the nature of your research, a research grant can potentially cover all of your expenses.

Lena Gryaznova SLAVIC LANGUAGES AND LITERATURE MAJOR LEGAL STUDIES MAJOR SOCIOLOGY MINOR How did you discover your research interest in sex crime prosecution? I was always interested in sex crime prosecution, so I knew I wanted to write my thesis on a related topic. I was brainstorming ideas of how to combine Slavic Literature and Sex Crime Law(s) and settled on examining how sex crimes are written about in Russian and American literature. I then began researching various types of sex crimes to narrow down my topic, and after stumbling upon an article in which I learned about the Marital Rape exemption that used to be in place, I knew that I wanted to examine Marital Rape in law and literature of the United States and Russia. What was your favorite or most poignant experience at Northwestern? At the end of my freshman and sophomore years, I would go and watch the sunrise on the lake-fill with a good friend of mine. It was always a very peaceful moment to reflect on the year and to think of all the experiences the summer and next year would bring. What advice would you give to current undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Research is a process. It will not happen overnight so be patient. Also, try and work on it a little but each day, even if it is only 10 minutes because it makes it a lot easier and less daunting. VOLUME 10, 2014-2015






How did you discover your research interest in ETA? During my sophomore year, I studied abroad for six months in Madrid. I was directly enrolled in a Spanish university (as well as) a required seminar on “Contemporary Spain.” It was co-taught by three professors, and the history professor taught a lesson on Spanish nationalisms one week. I had never heard the word “nationalisms” in the plural form before, so it really interested me. I’m someone who asks a lot of questions and looks for the answers, so my professor recommended I read this book to me about ETA, one of the nationalist, separatist groups in Spain. She also asked me to do a short write-up on my thoughts after reading the book, and it turns out (she didn’t tell me this at the time), she was friends with the author and sent him my paper! At the time, I had no plans to pursue research, let alone on this topic, but he and his wife offered “If you ever need anything, let us know.” Sure enough, one year later when I decided on my research topic, I reached out to them to start seeing if this was really possible. What was your most meaningful experience with research? It’s almost impossible to pick a single most memorable part of my research, since it seems like I have endless memories from my 8 weeks researching in Spain. I emailed an individual in a small town near where I was staying, who had been mentioned by one of my interview subjects that particular week. He responded to say that if I could come out to his small town, he would be willing to respond to be interviewed, and would do his best to recruit a few others. So, I arrived in this small town with no knowledge of where to go, but I was greeted at the bus station by the man and his friend. What followed was, essentially, the most intense chain of eight interviews I had conducted: one person would answer all my interview questions in a location of their choice, then walk with me to “deliver” me to the next


Kaitlyn Chriswell (‘14) is a recipient of the Summer Undergraduate Research Grant (2013), the Ginsberg Summer Research Grant (2013), the Kenneth Janda Prize for Most Distinguished Honors Thesis in Political Science (2014), and the McGovern Award for Academic Excellence and Leadership (2014) from the department of political science.

interviewee, and so on until we reached the final location, which was their gastronomic society. The whole group of interviewees had been cooking us a traditional Basque meal to share and celebrate together. After the meal, they took me on a walk around the town and waved goodbye as I boarded the bus. There was also a really neat encounter with the founder of the military wing of ETA who, after our interview, gave me a small pencil glued inside an old shell casing from his time in ETA. Unfortunately, it was confiscated in Toronto on my way home, and I almost caused a major incident because of the suspicion it provoked. I was also welcomed into a family’s home in Pamplona during San Fermines where the grandfather took me to see the running of the bulls one day. I had previously interviewed both him and his brother, but they insisted that I return because “I couldn’t be in Spain during the festival without attending.” So, he (at least 65 years old) and I climbed a railing inside the bullfight arena to get prime seats! These stories probably sound incredibly random, but they represent the wide range of memories—of interviews, meals, artifacts, and cultural events—from my eight weeks in Spain. What is the most challenging aspect of your research experience? The biggest challenge I encountered was that during my first week in Spain, I was told my project wasn’t possible and that I would have to completely change my topic. My thesis advisor had recommended I meet with two of her colleagues in Spain to help me make contacts in the region and see if they could help me with my project. As it turns out, they were wrong, and I was lucky to have such an incredible thesis advisor, Dr. Ana Arjona, who encouraged me to pursue my project as intended until we had proof that it “wasn’t possible.” In addition, it was challenging to accept that my identity as a young, blond, American woman affected my ability to collect information. In this case,


it actually worked to my advantage since my interviewees didn’t perceive me as a threat, and I was trusted with more information than men or native Spaniards would have been. However, it was difficult to balance the great quality of information I was gaining with questions about why “a pretty girl” was researching such a topic, and what my dad and boyfriend thought about my research. What, then, is the most rewarding aspect? The most rewarding part of my research would have to be interacting with such incredible people and having the honor of hearing their stories, (even if) all of this occurred in an interview setting. It was humbling to hear stories that my interviewees had rarely told their closest friends or family. The amount of insight I gained into their lives, as well as the level of detail they felt comfortable sharing with me was the biggest reward. I was welcomed into individual’s homes for lunches and dinners, taken out for countless cafés con leche, showed around the town, and introduced to people my own age so I had friends in my free time. What are your post-graduation plans? I’m currently working as Policy and Communications Assistant for the Alliance for International Educational and Cultural Exchange in Washington, D.C. A typical day involves a lot of research and reading of various news sources, in order to write articles for publication on our website. We have 88 member organizations, and one of our priorities is to make sure we keep our members informed about policies that affect their regulations and funding, best practices for the field, as well as how exchanges are being presented in the media. As the voice of international exchange, the Alliance also engages in a lot of advocacy work, so I’ll be taking a very hands-on role in our events with the Department of State and various members of Congress in the upcoming months.




Brian Yost (’14) is the recipient of the Barry Farrell Summer Experiential Learning grant. He is currently working as a project manager at Epic in Madison, WI. In his current job, Yost travels to various hospitals to help implement healthcare software and improve hospital operations. Having had personal experience in viewing the response to terrorism, Yost has directed his passion to researching interactions between counterterrorism and international security. How did you discover your research interest in terrorism? I started having an academic interest in terrorism and international security issues after taking John Lynn’s History of Terrorism class my freshman year. I was also in London during the July 7, 2005 terrorist bombings and I noticed how differently the British reacted to the event than the U.S. did after 9/11. After taking the history class, I started to understand and look into what this meant with regards to counterterrorism and the effects of terrorism. The symbolism and reaction to violence interested me, and my experience in London made the subject feel more relevant to me. What was your favorite moment from Northwestern? I’m not sure what my favorite moment in college was, but submitting my thesis was probably one of them. After all my friends had checked out of school, I still had to keep working on my thesis. Creating something that was mine, that was new and no one had done before (or at least done the way I thought it should be) and then finally being done with it; it was fantastic. What advice would you give to current undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Find something you’re interested in, think of how you want to study it, and then look for data. I’m not saying its ok to choose your theory, hypothesis, or thesis based on what data is available, but spending months perfecting your theory and research design, only to find out you can’t test any of them because the data doesn’t exist is a real concern. After you think of what you want to study, don’t just read the literature on the subject; start looking at datasets (if you want to do regression analysis) or other sources of data before fully committing to a research project.

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Catherine Tyson (’14) is the recipient of the Frank B. Safford Prize for Best Honors Thesis in International Studies (2014) and an Undergraduate Research Grant (2013). She is currently working as a Global Business Services Consultant at IBM in Washington DC. In the future, Tyson is interested in becoming involved with refugee policies. How did you discover your research interest? Like many Northwestern students, I realized that what I initially entered college to do was not what I actually wanted. During my sophomore year, I explored anything that sounded interesting and ran across a notice for an internship at the Center for Forced Migration Studies. Since then, I have been consumed with learning as much as I can about the anthropological, political, and historical contexts of refugee issues and current policy approaches to aid and permanent solutions. What was your most meaningful experience in research? My most meaningful experience in research was learning that I could create a practical solution to a problem that I saw with the research that I conducted. Although academic research can sometimes seem separated from practical applications, it was rewarding to understand how I could use my own fieldwork to propose a policy framework. What was your favorite experience at Northwestern? It is impossible to pick just one experience. Attending the 2012 UNHCR Consultations in Geneva, studying abroad in Egypt, almost every class I took, and late nights with friends on my dorm room floor are just a few that spring to mind. What advice would you give to current undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Talk to faculty who are doing work that interests you! Most are more than happy to talk about what they are researching and their process, and you will want a mentor when conducting your own research. Also, get connected with the Office of Fellowships! They have a lot of information about ways to pursue research and research-related positions both as an undergraduate and post-graduation.






Lillian Chen (’14) is the recipient of numerous grants and awards such as the Constance Campbell Prize in Basic Research (2014), Fletcher Award for Outstanding Research (2013), Summer URG (2013), and URAP (2012). During her time at Northwestern, Chen developed an interest in reproductive epidemiology and adolescent health that led her to pursue an MPH in epidemiology after her graduation in 2014. She is currently a graduate student at Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health and hopes to pursue a future career that integrates biology and medicine with the public health field. Outside of academics, she enjoys traveling, cooking, and Bikram yoga. How did you discover your interest in research? I came to Northwestern University knowing that I loved biology, but I actually initially imagined doing molecular biology research as opposed to the neuroscience research that I ultimately decided to pursue. I worked as a research assistant in a molecular biology lab during my freshman year and enjoyed the experience, but during sophomore year I decided to try something new when an opportunity arose to help out with experiments in a neuroscience lab. As I learned more about neuroscience and read about the projects that my lab was conducting, I was fascinated by the complexities of the brain and decided that this was an area I wanted to explore and do further research. What has been your most meaningful research experience? Working on my senior thesis was definitely the most meaningful aspect of my undergraduate research experience. I gained many skills helping the other members of my lab with their projects the first few years I joined the lab, but being in charge of my own project really pushed me to plan well, work through the numerous obstacles that 64

arose along the way, and think critically about my work. Did you encounter any challenges along the way? The most challenging aspect of my experience was troubleshooting when problems arose. My detailed research steps would look perfectly logical on paper, but in practice, new issues seemed to arise every day. Because I was conducting in vivo studies in animals, there were days when my research subjects were not cooperative. Other times, my program codes for data analysis wouldn’t run properly. Looking back, working through these problems actually gave me the opportunity to try to truly understand what I was doing. After nearly a year of planning and data collection, finally making sense of my data and writing my thesis was the most rewarding part of the whole experience. Who are the most influential people you know from Northwestern? One of the most influential people I worked with at Northwestern was my research mentor, Shoai Hattori. Shoai was a graduate student in my lab who really helped to foster my interest in neuroscience. Over the course of three


years, he taught me all the skills required to successfully carry out my thesis project. He was a wonderful mentor who supported me and challenged me not only to think about my specific project, but also to consider more broadly how I could integrate my research skills into my future career. Professor Amy Partridge also greatly influenced my time at Northwestern. My first freshman seminar with Professor Partridge on the Women’s Health Movement was my first exposure to women’s health and reproductive rights and that course, combined with a few others I had the opportunity of taking with her, had a significant impact on my current research interests. I really appreciate how Professor Partridge always challenged her students to really consider every aspect of an issue and apply them to broader contexts. These skills have come into great use as I currently pursue my graduate studies. What advice would you give to current Northwestern undergraduates interested in pursuing research? My best piece of advice to undergraduates interested in pursuing research is to keep an open mind of what you would like to research. While it certainly helps to have some idea of your interests, there are so many amazing things that professors and other students are studying that you may never have heard of before. I certainly did not have a clear understanding of what neuroscience was before I joined my lab, but my research experience turned out to be one of the most formative experiences of my time at Northwestern. Also, don’t be afraid to reach out to other upperclassmen about their research experiences. They can not only help you identify professors and projects that might interest you, but also give you great advice about how to balance classes, student groups and part-time jobs with research.



CLAIRE DILLON | SUBMITTED PHOTO How did you discover your interest in your particular area of research? My senior thesis is rooted in the first Art History course I took as a freshman, Art and Society in 19th and 20th Century Latin America, with Professor Ana María Reyes. In that class, I did all of my writing assignments on Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) at the Art Institute. Three years later those ideas developed into this research project. What do you recall as your most memorable research experience? My most memorable experience was traveling to Ireland for the Undergraduate Awards 2013

Claire Dillon (’14) is the recipient of numerous grants and awards including the J. Carson Webster Prize for Distinguished Honors Thesis in Art History (2014); Best Poster Presentation in the Humanities, Fine Arts, Political Science, and History at CAURS (2014); Mellon Mays Fellow (2012-2014); and Warnock Travel Grant (2013). She currently works as the Director of Education + Outreach for the Chicago-based non-profit ART WORKS Projects. She also serves as the Editorial Assistant for the publication Art Journal. She hopes in the future to travel to Ireland to earn a Master’s in Medieval Studies before returning to the States to pursue a Ph.D. in Art History.

Global Summit. The Undergraduate Awards is an international academic awards program that recognizes undergraduate research across disciplines. Every year they host a conference in Dublin for all winners and finalists. As a finalist, I was able to attend with support from Weinberg College, The Office of Undergraduate Research, and the Mellon Mays Fellowship. It was great to receive additional recognition and support for research at the undergraduate level. What was the most challenging aspect of research for you? For me, the writing process is the most challenging aspect of research. While it’s often enjoyable and fulfilling to research and

discuss a topic, to record that work in a direct and effective way is always difficult. The most rewarding aspects of research are completing a project and sharing it through presentations and publications. It’s important to receive questions and feedback from different audiences as a reminder that there is always more to learn. What advice would you give to current undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Never stop writing. Identify an idea that interests you and run with it. While a new research project can seem intimidating at first, Northwestern has a plethora of resources that will guide and support you along the way.


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How did you discover your interest in your particular area of research? After taking several Romantic and Victorian literature courses at Northwestern, I found myself constantly drawn to depictions of landscape in these novels, especially its common association with female liberation and independence. As landscape is a predominant underpinning for most 19th century novels, I decided I wanted to address these theories myself. Whether I was to be in agreement or discord with these arguments on landscape, I did not yet know. It was the idea of landscape and female representation in outdoor spaces that initially attracted me to my topic of interest. What is your most meaningful or memorable experience in research? What are the most challenging and most rewarding aspects? Some of my most memorable moments during the research and writing process were spent confiding in my mentors, Professors Jules Law and Nick Davis. Explaining my thought processes out loud with these incredible counselors allowed me to clarify my theories and stumble upon epiphanies that would completely alter the course of a chapter—or sometimes, the course of the thesis itself. On the same token,


Kathryn Ikenberry (’14) graduated with English Departmental Honors and is the recipient of the Edwin L. Shuman Prize for Best Honors Thesis in Literature (2014) and Robert Mayo Memorial Prize (2013) for Best Paper in Introductory Seminar for Reading and Interpretation.

discussions with my advisors often led to some of the most challenging aspects of the writing process. Two months before my thesis deadline, Professor Law prodded me to consider an entirely different approach to my third chapter, which included reading and researching a novel I had never even read. It was from this challenge, though, that I felt the most rewarded. Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles not only became my favorite chapter of the thesis, but one of my favorite novels. What is one of the most memorable experiences you have had at Northwestern? During the monotonous, frigid days of winter quarter, my roommates and I decided to start a weekly tradition where we would gather at Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria for deep dish pizza, diet cokes, and conversation every Tuesday evening. “Lou’s on Tues” was an opportunity to step away from work, school, and job applications, and enjoy the company of those who impacted us most throughout our college experience. We were fortunate enough to be joined by some of our most influential faculty members, including Professors Renee Englen and Gary Saul Morson, as well as President Morton Schapiro.


What advice would you give to current Northwestern undergraduates interested in pursuing research? The best piece of advice I can offer is to stay open minded. My thesis initiated with one idea which blossomed into something much more interesting, elaborate, and original than I had ever imagined. Remaining rigid in your thinking only keeps you rooted to the same concepts, while the whole purpose of the thesis—at least in my eyes—is to cultivate and expand your mind by exploring new and foreign ideas. Can you describe your current postgraduation plans? After graduation, I jetted off to the other side of the world to become an English teaching assistant at a boarding school in Milan. While here, I also secured a job at an entertainment agency—a career path I’m seriously considering when I return to America in May of 2015. My typical day involves drinking an espresso before work, teaching English vocabulary and grammar to Italian elementary school students, exploring one of Milan’s numerous museums or castles, and capping it all off with pasta and gelato with my host family.



Christopher Hoffman (’14) is the recipient of a Fulbright English Teaching assistantship in Germany (2014) and a Northwestern undergraduate research grant (2013). He is currently working as an English teacher in Hamburg, Germany. In the future, Hoffman hopes to work in the private sector and utilize his creative abilities. A fan of literature, film, and music, Hoffman enjoys traveling the world to meet new people and experience various cultures. How did you discover your interest in your particular area of research? Although I arrived at NU knowing I wanted to study the humanities, I went through what felt like every possible discipline (Economics, Linguistics, Sociology, History were the big candidates) before realizing that Comparative Literature had the wide aperture I enjoyed the most. If I had to choose a moment, it was probably my high school American history teacher lending me one of those “Introduction


“It doesn’t happen overnight, but I woke up after four years at school shocked to see what I had done. My pet theory says that the hard part of humanities research is finding the lifestyle that allows you to think creatively.” to Marx” books. I apologize to those who I put through dim conversations about political economy at the time. What is your most memorable or rewarding memory of research? It sounds banal, but my research in CLS has been about opening myself to all sorts of unfamiliar perspectives and reconciling that with the otherwise ordinary life of a student. It doesn’t happen overnight but I woke up after four years at school shocked to see what I had done. My pet theory says that the hard part of humanities research is finding the lifestyle that allows you to think creatively. You need discipline to keep it all in focus, but what the “all” is, is rarely clear. But too much navelgazing doesn’t help either.


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What advice would you give to current Northwestern undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Any number of reasons may motivate you to

do research, but to keep the fire burning, the one thing that mattered to me was being honest about my motives and the intellectual problem that I was working on. What is one of your favorite experiences while at Northwestern? One unforgettable time was the trip I took during my Study Abroad with a bunch of other NU students to Budapest, cramming eight people into an apartment, doing all those familiar, touristy things and being unabashedly American. What does a typical day look like for you now that you’ve graduated? On a typical day, I spend the morning helping vocational school students to speak English, and hopefully motivate them more than a class in English for Warehouse Logistics normally would. In the afternoon I read, write, wander aimlessly, and connect (my first title is “cultural ambassador”) with the Germans (and expats) I’ve met abroad.





Sofia Falzoni (’14) is the recipient of the Weinberg URG (2013) and URAP (2012). She is currently doing a Fulbright ETA in Brazil. How did you discover your interest in research? I first discovered my particular area of research while on exchange at Sciences Po in Paris, where I took a few classes on immigration in the EU. These courses sparked my interest in studying the topic from a sociological perspective, and my home town of Miami seemed like a unique place to study these issues as they unfold. More generally speaking, my personal experiences also contributed to my interest in the subject and influenced the way I think about immigration issues. What is your most meaningful research experience? My most meaningful experience with my research project was conducting the interviews. I got to meet and talk to so many interesting people I probably wouldn’t have met had it not been for my research. I had a fun time doing it, and I was so amazed by how open people were when sharing their stories. What advice do you have for current Northwestern students? Be patient. Don’t be afraid to show your vulnerabilities to your professors and be honest and forthcoming about your thoughts and ideas. Don’t be afraid to reach out to people; you’d be surprised by the number of positive responses you receive. Engage your friends and classmates in your research; I found that my peers often had the most insightful feedback, and it was great to bounce ideas off of them.

“Engage your friends and classmates in your research; I found that my peers often had the most insightful feedback, and it was great to bounce ideas off of them.” 68



Brian Earl (’14) is the recipient of the Joseph Clyde Murley Prize for Excellence in Honors Thesis Research (2014). He currently works as a technical writer at Epic and enjoys spending his free time in the great outdoors. How did you discover the research topic that inspired your senior thesis? I’ve had an interest in the arts of retelling, adaptation, and translation for years. More fundamentally, I’ve loved stories, including the stories and myths of ancient Greece and Rome, for as long as I can remember. But this particular project draws its roots and inspiration from Deena Berg’s and Douglass Parker’s translations of five comedies by Plautus and Terence, which Professor Kate Bosher introduced me to my sophomore year. In an introduction to their project, they write, “Our first loyalty is to our target language, English . . . Our job is to capture the humor, the pace, and the sound of the ancient language.” When I was brainstorming ideas for a thesis project my junior year, this passage came back to me, and it occurred to me that I would enjoy applying their translational philosophy to prose. What is one of your most favorite experiences during your undergraduate years at Northwestern? The Homerathon last spring was everything I was hoping for in my college experience. Dozens of people, including some of my closest friends, sat together on the lakefill to read Homer’s Iliad aloud all night long. As we read the closing lines, the sun rose spectacularly over Lake Michigan. It was a stimulating, inspiring, beautiful night. What advice would you give to current undergraduates interested in pursuing research? Have realistic expectations about the scope of the project and the time you are willing to commit to it. If you make an ambitious thesis your priority, you may have to cut back on your other commitments in order to do it justice; there are simply not enough hours in a week for us ambitious Northwestern students to accomplish everything that we would like to accomplish. Research is a rewarding and demanding mistress.

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